Behold the insects over head,

That gambol in the spring; God made the stars, and daisies too, And watches over them and you.

STARS.

Stars, that on your wondrous way,
Twinkle in the evening sky,

Is there nothing you can say

To a child so small as I? Tell me, for I long to know Who has made you sparkle so?

Child, as surely as we roll

Through the dark and distant sky, You have an immortal soul,

Made to live when we shall die ;

Suns and planets pass away,
Spirits never can decay.

Yes, and God who bade us roll,
God who placed us in the sky,

Stoops to watch an infant's soul,
With a condescending eye;

And esteems it dearer far,
More in value than a star.

BOY AND THE LARK.

Who taught you to sing,
My pretty sweet birds?
Who tuned your beautiful throats ?
You make all the woods

And the vallies to ring,
You bring the first news
Of the earliest spring,

With your loud and silvery notes.

Who painted your wings,
My sweet pretty birds?

And taught you to soar in the sky?
You rise and you dart

Through the region of light,
You look down on man

From your loftiest height;

Your hearts know no troublesome care.

And where are your fields,

My beautiful birds ?

And where are your houses and barns?

You sow not the ground,

You reap not the corn,

You spring from your nests

On the earliest morn ;

But you care not about the wide farm.

'Tis God, said a lark,

As he rose from the turf,

Who gives us the good we enjoy;

He painted our wings,

He gave us our voice,

He finds us our food,

He bids us rejoice;

Good morning, my beautiful boy,

This is a precious book indeed,
Happy the child that loves to read ;
'Tis God's own word which he has given
To show our souls the way to heaven.

It tells us how the world was made,
And how good men the Lord obey'd ;
There his commands are written too,
To teach us what we ought to do.

It bids us all from sin to fly,
Because our souls can never die;
It points to heaven where angels dwell,
And warns us to escape from hell.

But, what is more than all beside,
The Bible tells us Jesus died;
This is its best, its chief intent,
To lead poor sinners to repent.

Be thankful, children, that you may
Read this good Bible every day;
'Tis God's own word which he has given
To show our souls the way to heaven.

GOD OUR FATHER.

Will God, who made each shining star
To throw its twinkling beams so far,
In mercy gently condescend
To be my Father and my friend?

Art thou my Father? Let me be
A meek, obedient child to thee;
And try, in word, and deed, and thought,
To serve and please thee as I ought.