« EelmineJätka »
The wise will let their anger cool,
At least before 'tis night;
It burns till morning light.
Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,
Our little brawls remove;
Our hearts may all be love,
LOVE TO OUR ENEMIES.
WHEN Christ among the sons of men
In humble form was found, With cruel slanders, false and vain,
They compass'd bim around.
With tenderness he bore their griefs,
Their peace he still pursued ; They render'd hatred for his love,
And evil for his good.
Their malice raged without a cause,
Yet with his dying breath, He pray'd for murd'rers on the cross,
And bless'd his foes in death.
From the rich fountains of his love
What streams of mercy flow ! “ Father, forgive them, Jesus cries,
“ They know not what they do,”,
Let not this bright example sbine
In vain before our eyes :
To love our enemies.
SHEPHERD, seek not wealth or power ;
Thou art happier in thy sphere,
In the city's tempting glare,
THE ANT OR EMMET.
These Emmets, how little they are in our eyes !
Without our regard or concern ;
Some lessons of wisdom might learn.
They wear not their time out in sleeping or play,
And for winter they lay up their stores ;
Nor provide against dangers in time;
If I trifle away all their prime!
bloom, Let me think what shall 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.
PLEASURES OF INDUSTRY AND CONTENTMENT.
SOME think it a hardship to work for their bread,
Although for our good it was meant; But those that don't work, have no right to be fed ;
And the idle are never content.
An honest employment brings pleasure and gain,
And makes us our troubles forget; For those that work hard have no time to complain,
And 'tis better to labour than fret.
E'en if we had riches, they could not procure
A happy and peaceable mind;
Although of a different kind.
It signifies not what our stations have been,
Nor whether we're little or great ;
And not in the outward estate,
We only need labour as hard as we can,
For all that our bodies may need; Still doing our duty to God and to man,
And we shall be happy indeed.
AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF.
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining bour,
From ev'ry op’ning flow'r.
How skilfully she builds her cell
How neat she spreads the wax,-
With the sweet food she makes,
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too ;
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past;
Some good account at last.
THE SAFETY OF A VIRTUOUS COURSE.
THERE was an orchard large and round,
And plums and pears were there; But round it grew a hedge of thorns,
Which sharp and prickly were,