SHORT METRE. GIVE to the Father praise, And to the Spirit of his grace But Thomas and William, and such pretty names, Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say, For he's still in earnest that 's hurt: A SLIGHT SPECIMEN OF MORAL SONGS. Such as I wish some happy and condescending genius would undertake for the use of children, and perform much better. THE HE sense and subjects might be borrowed plentifully from the Proverbs of Solomon, from all the common appearances of nature, from all the occurrences of civil life, both in city and country (which would also afford matter for other divine songs). Here the language and measures should be easy, and flowing with cheerfulness, with or without the solemnities of religion, or the sacred names of God and holy things; that children might find delight and profit together. This would be one effectual way to deliver them from those idle, wanton, or profane songs, which give so early an ill taint to the fancy and memory, and become the seeds of future vices. 1. THE SLUGGARD. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him com- And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, fing." III. THE ROSE. How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, But all our fond care to preserve them is vain; Though they bloom and look gay like the rose; Time kills them as fast as he goes. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, But gain a good name by well-doing my duty: IV. THE THIEF. WHY should I deprive my neighbour Hands were made for honest labour, Of his goods against his will ? Not to plunder or to steal. T is a foolish self-deceiving By such tricks to hope for gain: All that's ever got oy thieving Turns to sorrow, shame, and pain. Have not Eve and Adam taught us Their sad profit to compute? Practise little pilfering ways, Who taught me betimes to love working and read-Guard my heart, O God of Heaven, II. INNOCENT PLAY. ABROAD in the meadows to see the young lambs Lest I covet what 's not mine: Lest I steal what is not given, Guard my heart and hands from sin. V. THE ANT OR EMMET. THESE emmets how little they are in our eyes! We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies Without our regard or concern: Yet, as wise as we are, if we went to their school, There's many a sluggard, and many a fool, Some lessons of wisdom might learn. They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, But gather up corn in a sun-shiny day, And for winter they lay up their stores : They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms, And so brought their food within doors. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, If I take not due care for the things I shall want, Nor provide against dangers in time. When Death or Old Age shall stare in my face, What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days, If I trifle away all their prime! Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom, Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall come, And pray that my sins be forgiven: Let me read in good books, and believe, and obey, That when Death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in Heaven. VI. GOOD RESOLUTIONS. THOUGH I'm now in younger days, Where my growing age shall call me. Should I e'er be rich or great, Others shall partake my goodness; I'll supply the poor with meat, Never showing scorn or rudeness. Where I see the blind or lame, Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them; I deserve to feel the same If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them. By my patience never failing? Talking foolish, cursing, swearing; I'll engage the rich to love me, If I should be poor and sick, I shall meet, I hope, with pity, Since I love to help the weak, Though they 're neither fair nor witty. I'll not willingly offend, Nor be easily offended; And endure what can 't be mended. O'er my humours and my passion, As to peak and do no ill, Though it should be all the fashion! Ne'er may I be found complying; A SUMMER EVENING. How fine has the day been, how bright was the How lovely and joyful the course that he run, Just such is the Christian: his course he begins, Like the Sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins, And melts into tears: then he breaks out and shines, And travels his heavenly way: Like a fine setting Sun, he looks richer in grace, Some copies of the following Hymn having got abroad already into several hands, the author has been persuaded to permit it to appear in public, at the end of these Songs for Children. A CRADLE HYMN. HUSH! my dear, lie still and slumber, Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, All thy wants are well supplied. Did they thus afront their Lord? Soft, my child; I did not chide thee, Though my song might sound too hard; 1 mother T is thy sits beside thee, nurse that And her arms shall be thy guard. Yet to read the shameful story, How the Jews abus'd their King, How they serv'd the Lord of glory, Makes me angry while I sing. Here you may use the word; brother, sister, neighbour, friend, &c. |