V

THE QUEEN-MOTHER'S COUNSEL

A Thought*

It is very nice to think

The world is full of meat and drink,
With little children saying grace
In every Christian kind of place.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

Inscription for My Little Son's Silver Plate +
When thou dost eat from off this plate,
I charge thee be thou temperate;
Unto thine elders at the board
Do thou sweet reverence accord;
And, though to dignity inclined,
Unto the serving-folk be kind;
Be ever mindful of the poor,

:

Nor turn them hungry from the door;

And unto God, for health and food
And all that in thy life is good,

Give thou thy heart in gratitude.

Eugene Field.

* From "Poems and Ballads," copyright, 1895, 1896, by Chas. Scribner's Sons.

From "The Book of Joyous Children," copyright, 1902, by Chas. Scribner's Sons.

Praise God

Praise God for wheat, so white and sweet,

Of which to make our bread!
Praise God for yellow corn, with which
His waiting world is fed!

Praise God for fish and flesh and fowl
He gave to men for food!

Praise God for every creature which
He made and called it good!

Praise God for winter's store of ice,
Praise God for summer's heat!
Praise God for fruit trees bearing seed,
"To you it is for meat!"

Praise God for all the bounty

By which the world is fed!

Praise God, ye children all, to whom

He gives your daily bread!

The Eyes of God

Unknown.

God watches o'er us all the day,
At home, at school, and at our play;
And when the sun has left the skies
He watches with a million eyes.

Gabriel Setoun.

Kindness to Animals

Little children, never give

Pain to things that feel and live:
Let the gentle robin come

For the crumbs you save at home,—
As his meat you throw along

He'll repay you with a song;
Never hurt the timid hare

Peeping from her green grass lair,
Let her come and sport and play
On the lawn at close of day;
The little lark goes soaring high
To the bright windows of the sky,
Singing as if 'twere always spring,
And fluttering on an untired wing,-
Oh! let him sing his happy song,
Nor do these gentle creatures wrong.
Unknown.

How Doth the Little Busy Bee

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flow'r!

How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well

With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;

For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,

That I may give for ev'ry day

Some good account at last.

Isaac Watts.

Deeds of Kindness

Suppose the little cowslip

Should hang its golden cup,
And say, "I'm such a tiny flower,
I'd better not grow up."
How many a weary traveller

Would miss its fragrant smell!
How many a little child would grieve
To lose it from the dell!

Suppose the glistening dewdrop

Upon the grass should say, "What can a little dewdrop do?

I'd better roll away."

The blade on which it rested,

Before the day was done,
Without a drop to moisten it,
Would wither in the sun.

Suppose the little breezes,
Upon a summer's day,

Should think themselves too small to cool
The traveller on his way:
Who would not miss the smallest

And softest ones that blow,

And think they made a great mistake,

If they were talking so?

How many deeds of kindness
A little child may do,

Although it has so little strength,

And little wisdom too!

It wants a loving spirit,

Much more than strength, to prove How many things a child may do For others by its love.

F. P.