And when we bend the knee in prayer, And hymns to our Redeemer raise, It seems to me that God is there, To hear us pray and sing his praise. While others slight the Sabbath day, And shun the gospel's joyful sound, Oh, may I cleave to wisdom's way, And ever in my class be found.
WHO MADE THE STARS?
Mother! why do the stars, to-night, Shine down so prettily, Casting abroad their modest light, All o'er the sparkling sea?
Who made them, mother? was it He Who built the earth and sky? Who came to earth to die for me, That I might never die?
It was, my child; He made them all, And scattered them on high;
He holds them that they do not fall, Fast planted in the sky.
And you, my child, if you are good, If you seek him by prayer, Washed in your Saviour's precious blood, Shall find admittance there.
Then I will love him. Every day I'll bend my knees in prayer ;
To God who made the stars I'll pray, That he may take me there.
There is a glorious world of light Above the starry sky,
Where saints departed, clothed in white, Adore the Lord most high.
And hark! amid the songs of praise Those heavenly voices raise, Ten thousand, thousand, infant tongues Unite, and perfect praise.
Those are the hymns that we shall know, If Jesus we obey;
That is the place where we shall go, If found in wisdom's way.
God is in heaven, -can he hear A little prayer like mine ?
Yes, thoughtful child, thou need'st not fear, He listeneth to thine.
God is in heaven, -can he see When I am doing wrong? Yes, that he can, he looks at thee All day, and all night long.
God is in heaven, would he know If I should tell a lie ?
Yes, if thou saidst it very low, He'd hear it in the sky.
God is in heaven, -may I pray
To go there when I die ?
Yes, love him here, and then, one day, He'll call you to the sky.
THE WAY TO BE HAPPY.
How pleasant it is, at the end of the day, No follies to have to repent; But reflect on the past, and be able to say, That my time has been properly spent.
When I've done all my business with patience and care,
Have been good, and obliging, and kind, I lie on my pillow, and sleep away there, With a happy and peaceable mind.
But instead of all this, if it must be confessed That I careless and idle have been ;
I lay down, as usual, to go to my rest, But feel discontented within.
Then, as I don't like all the trouble I've had, In future I'll try to prevent it; For I never am naughty, without being sad, Or good, without being contented.
Lord, teach a little child to pray, Thy grace betimes impart, And grant the Holy Spirit may Renew my infant heart.
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