Hymns, Songs, and Fables, for Young People | Page 6

dance along,
And look so glad and gay;
I
love to hear their pleasant song,
I feel as glad as they.
"The young lambs bleat and frisk about,
The bees hum round their
hive,
The butterflies are coming out,--
'Tis good to be alive.
"The trees that looked so stiff and gray
With green wreaths now are
hung;
O mother! let me laugh and play,
I cannot hold my tongue.
"See yonder bird spread out his wings,
And mount the clear blue
skies;
And hark! how merrily he sings,
As far away he flies."
"Go forth, my child, and laugh and play,
And let your cheerful voice,

With birds, and brooks, and merry May,
Cry loud, Rejoice!
rejoice!
"I would not check your bounding mirth,
My little happy boy,
For
He who made this blooming earth
Smiles on an infant's joy."
GUESS WHAT I HAVE HEARD.
Dear mother, guess what I have heard!
O, it will soon be spring!
I'm

sure it was a little bird,--
Mother, I heard him sing.
Look at this little piece of green
That peeps out from the snow,
As
if it wanted to be seen,--
'Twill soon be spring, I know.
And O, come here, come here and look!
How fast it runs along!--

Here is a cunning little brook;
O, hear its pretty song!
I know 'tis glad the winter's gone
That kept it all so still,
For now it
merrily runs on,
And goes just where it will.
I feel just like the brook, I know;
It says, it seems to me,--
"Good by,
cold weather, ice, and snow;
Now girls and brooks are free."
I love to think of what you said,
Mother, to me last night,
Of this
great world that God has made,
So beautiful and bright.
And now it is the happy spring
No naughty thing I'll do;
I would not
be the only thing
That is not happy, too.
SPRING.
Hark! the little birds are singing,--
Winter's gone and summer's near;

See, the tender grass is springing,
And the flowers will soon be
here.
Who made the winter and the spring?
Who painted all the flowers?

Who taught the little birds to sing,
And made these hearts of ours?
O, 'tis God! how good he is!
He does every blessing give;
All this
happy world is his,--
Let us love him while we live.
THE LITTLE BOY'S GOOD-NIGHT.
The sun is hidden from our sight,
The birds are sleeping sound;
'Tis
time to say to all, "Good night!"
And give a kiss all round.

Good night! my father, mother, dear,
Now kiss your little son;

Good night! my friends, both far and near,
Good night to every one.
Good night! ye merry, merry birds,
Sleep well till morning light;

Perhaps if you could sing in words,
You would have said, "Good
night!"
To all my pretty flowers, good night!
You blossom while I sleep;

And all the stars, that shine so bright,
With you their watches keep.
The moon is lighting up the skies,
The stars are sparkling there;
'Tis
time to shut our weary eyes,
And say our evening prayer.
THE SHEPHERD'S SABBATH-SONG.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.
This is the Sabbath day!
In the wide field I am alone.
Hark! now
one morning bell's sweet tone,--
Now it has died away.
Kneeling I worship Thee;
Sweet dread doth o'er my spirit steal,

From whispering sounds of those who kneel,
Unseen, to pray with
me.
Around and far away,
So clear and solemn is the sky,
It seems all
opening to my eye;
This is the Sabbath day!
TO SPRING.
Hail! reviving, joyous Spring,
Smiling through thy veil of showers;

Birds and brooks thy welcome sing,--
Haste, and waken all thy
flowers.
Hark! a sweet pervading sound!
From the breathing, moving earth

Life is starting all around,
Sending joy and fragrance forth.

O'er the oak's gigantic form
Blossoms hang their drapery;
Branches
that defied the storm
Now are full of melody.
There is not a silent thing
In this joyous company;
Woods, and hills,
and valleys ring
With a shout of jubilee.
Wake, my spirit! art thou still?
Senseless things have found a voice;

Shall this throbbing heart be still,
When all nature cries, "Rejoice"?
Wake, come forth, my bounding soul!
Join the universal glee,
Yield
to nature's kind control,
Catch her heavenly harmony.
Join the grateful, happy throng,
Cast each selfish care away;
Birds
and brooks shall tune your song;
This is nature's holiday.
HER VOYAGE IS AT AN END.
Hushed was the ocean's stormy roar,
Still as an infant's joy;
There
sat upon the rocky shore
A father and his boy.
Far off they saw a gallant ship,
It came from foreign lands;
The boy
began to dance and skip,
And clap his little hands.
Her wished-for port is near at hand,
The ship is hastening on;
They
hear the birds sing on the land;
Her voyage is nearly done.
The boy's glad notes, his shouts of glee,
The rocks with music fill;

But now he cries,--"See, father, see!
The ship is standing still."
Her masts are trembling from the shock.
Her white sails all descend;

The ship has struck upon a rock,--
Her voyage is at an end.
The sailors hurry to and fro,
All crowded is the deck;
She struggles
hard,--she's free;--O, no!
She is indeed a wreck.
The boy's young heart is full of grief:
"Father! what will she do?


Let's take the boat to her