EMORY UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
GIFT OF
Dr. Judson C. Ward
SIMPLE RHYMES
AND
FAMILIAR CONVERSATIONS,
FOR
BY UNCLE CHARLES.
PENFIELD, GA.
PRINTED BY BENJ. BRANTLY.
1844.
Entered, according to an Act of Congress, in the
Clerk's Office of the District of Georgia, 1844.
CONTENTS'.
Page.
Introduction, 5
PART I.
Lesson I. Cruelty Reproved, 3
II. Dishonesty Condemned, 11
III. About Tobacco, 14
IV. And now we come to Whiskey! 19
V. And this Lesson is about Whiskey too, 23
VI. Children must govern their temper, 27
VII. Something more about keeping the Temper, 30
VIII. The selfish Bee.—A Dream, S3
IX. The Lessons are too long, 37
X. Well then take Nothing for your Lesson, 38
XI. Diligence in Study, 40
PART II.
Lesson I. How to know and feel that we are sinners, 43
II. The Penitent Child, 45
III. The Young Convert, 47
IV. About Baptism, 49
V. About the Soul, 55
VI. About the good little Children we read of in
the Bible, 57
VII. The Lord's Prayer, & the Ten Commandments, 60
VIII. Unkind and disobedient Children, 62
IX. Is your Mother dead^ _ 64
X. Pray for your ungodly Parents, ~ 66
XL The Goodness of the Lord, 67
XII. The Meteor, 68
XIII. The Bible, 70
XIV. The first Burman Hymn, 71
XV. Do not forget the Heathen, 75
XVI. Verses for the Morning and Evening and the
Sabbath, 77
XVII. And now in this Last Lesson, let us talk a.
bout Dying, 79
INTRODUCTION.
Henry.—Well, mother, here's a new Book; have
you seen it? a little Book for children.
Frederick.—Let me see—let me see:—Mother, make
brother Henry give it to me.
Mother.—Be patient my child—you shall soon see it
—let mother examine it a little first. " Simple Rhymes
and Familiar Conversations, for Children. By Un¬
cle Charles."
George.—Mother, who is Uncle Charles?
Mother.—Children, don't be in such a hurry: Be pa¬
tient a few minutes, and I will explain it all.
~ George.—But, mother, just tell me, if you please,
who is this Uncle Charles?
Henry.—Hush, brother^ there is a gentleman at the
door. r
Mother.—Do you not know him? why that is the
very Uncle Charles himself.—Walk in, Sir> I am glad
6
io see you this morning. Take a seat near the fire. •
You see rnv children have got hold of your little
Book; they are very inquisitive about it, and George,
especially, is all anxiety to know who this Uncle
Charles can be.
Lncle Charles.—Well, here he is:—I am Uncle
Charles. You thought, 1 suppose, that he was some
old, grey-headed, fat gentleman;—but you see that I
am not very old, nor very fat, nor very grey-headed;
but I am fat and old enough to be Uncle; and you must
understand that 1 consider myself Uncle to all the little
children in the country.
Ilenry.—Uncle to all the good children, 1 suppose.
Uncle Charles.—Yes, to all the good children;—I
love such children, and I love to talk to them, and ad¬
vise them, and encourage them to be better still.
Frederick.—Uncle to any bad children?
Uncle Charles.—O yes, Uncle to bad children too*
I love them, but 1 do not love their evil ways,:—I tell
them their faults, and if necessary, sometimes give them
a scolding.
Frederick.—And a whipping too?
Uncle Charles.—No, my child; I let their fathers
and mothers whip them when they think it really neces¬
sary—I only talk to them, and pray for them.
George.—Well, mother, I do think that Uncle Charles
is the largest Uncle in Georgia;—I mean he is Uncle to
so many children;—good children—bad children—all
the children.—Uncle Charles did you write that Book?
Uncle Charles.—Yes, child, I suppose I did.
Frederick.—What for?
Uncle Charles.—For you and Henry, and George,
and all the litle children to read and study. It tells
about a wicked mouse, and a hard-hearted boy that kill-
7
ed a fly; and it also tells what a bad thing it is to use
tobacco, and drink whiskey, and the like. And it goes on
to tell how little children must keep their temper. And
it has much to say about very serious things—about the
soul—about Christ—about heaven and hell, &c. A
large portion of it, you see, is in verses and little hymns.
Now, if you will learn one of the longer pieces of poetry
every week, or two or three of the shorter pieces, and
repeat them correctly to your mother, perhaps the next
time I come I will bring you some raisins and a nice
piece of candy.
Mrs. W. I hope my children will be pleased with the
Book; I will try to encourage them to read and study it,
believing that it may have a tendency to make some
impressions on their minds, which may be useful in fu¬
ture life.
Uncle Charles.—I hope it may have that good effect.
Let your efforts be accompanied with sincere and fer¬
vent prayer, that God would grant his blessing.—
Without his aid, all labor will be useless:—our children
will forget, and sin, and wander, and perish. But God
has promised good in answer to prayer—a blessing to
our faithful and persevering endeavors. Ask and ye
shall receive—Let us not be weary in well doing, for in
due time we shall reap if we faint not.—Train up a
child in the way he should go, arid when he is old, he
will not depart from it.
You will perceive, madam, that the poetry of the
Book can make no great claim to superior excellence.
I suppose, if valued at all, it will be principally on ac¬
count of the sentiments it contains: when estimated in
this light, I hope it may not be deemed altogether un¬
worthy the attention of children.
Some of the pieces are written in the simplest style,
8
suited to the capacity of very young children; others
in a little more elevated strain, yet not so much so but
what they can be well understood by most children,
with the aid of a few simple explanations from the older
members of the family.
The little Book is divided into two parts: the first
made up of pieces that are somewhat tinged with humor
and pleasantry, though still interspersed with religious
sentiment; the other composed entirely of such as are of
a grave, solemn and religious character.
For the convenience of any who might think proper
to encourage their children to commit my simple verses
to memory, I have divided the Book into such portions
as might answer for weekly lessons.
spinas a*
LESSON I.
CRUELTY REPROVED.
Oscar.—Ha, ha, ha,—see how the little fellow kicks
and tumbles.
Mary.—O, brother, do not treat the poor thing so!
Mother, do come here, and make Oscar let this poor fly
alone. See, he has pulled off one wing, and two legs,
and the thing is almost dead!
George.—And, mother, 1 saw him catch a fly yester¬
day, and serve him in the same way.
Walter.—Yes, and 1 saw him the other night catch
a bug with long wings, and burn off the ends of his
wings in the candle. L felt so sorry for the poor bug.
Mother.—Dear child, have I not told you again and
again to be kind to every thing? How can you delight
in the torment of that helpless little fly. He has done
you no harm. He is one of God's creatures, and you
ought to let him live and enjoy himself.
Oscar.—But look, mother, he is so funny: See how
he buzzes and whirls about when I touch him. Ha,
ha, ha.
Mother.—Ah, Oscar, I am afraid you will come to
some bad end. You seem to have a very hard and
unkind heart; if you now take so much pleasure in
causing pain to that poor fly, perhaps when you grow
up to be a man, you will delight to torment your fellow-
creatures—perhaps you will even mock at your mo¬
ther's grief, and bring down her grey hairs with sorrow
to the grave.
10
There now! you have killed the poor little harmless
fly!—0! how sorry I am that you are so unfeeling!—
Come here, my child, and learn this little piece that
Uncle Charles wrote for just such children as you:
THE BOY AND THE FLY.
BOY.
There, now, I've got you, naughty fly;
Prepare yourself, good sir, to die:—
Come off old leg, come off old wing;—
Now let me hear you buzz and sing.
FLY.
O cruel boy, to treat me so,
And triumph in my pain and wo;
Does it bespeak a noble mind,
In others' tears your sport to find?
BOY.
Silence! you little saucy thing;—
Another leg—another wing:—
Now, with submission, bear your pain,
Nor of your betters dare complain.
FLY.
Do.es might give right?—The Lord on high,
Who gave you life, made me a fly;
My life and happiness are mine,
As much as yours, good sir, are thine.
What if the Lord had fashioned flies
Likelnighty eagles in the skies;
And I had pounced upon thee, boy,
To mangle, torture, and destroy?—
11
BOY.
Silence! I say:—There, take that blow—
I'll have you, sir, I'll have you know,
That when a little saucy fly
Insults me thus, he has to die,
FLY.
I die;—but hear, I charge you, hear.
What now I whisper in your ear:
You may to some good end apply,
The warnings of a murdered fly.
You that now mock o'er insects' tears,
May harder grow in future years;
May cause your father bitter smart,
And break your tender mother's heart.
He that delights to murder flies,
May murder men before he dies:
Be gentle, tender;—learn to dwell
In love with all:—Farewell: farewell.
LESSON II.
DISHONESTY CONDEMNED.
Elizabeth—Mother, please give me a pin.
Mother.—Where, child, is the one I gave you a little
while ago?
Elizabeth.—I have lost it, mother.—I put it in my
little cushion, and it is gone.
Sarah.—Mother, I'll tell you all about it—John took
that pin—he crept up slyly and pulled it out of the cush¬
ion, and went out and stuck it in his paper kite.
12
Mother.—Come here; John—why did you steal your
sister's pin; if you had asked her for it, she would have
given it to you; or I would have given you one.
John.—Mother, I did not steal it.
Mother.—Don't deny it, child—that makes it worse.
Did you not creep up slyly and take that pin?
John.—O yes, mother, I took it, but that was not
stealing. It was only a. pin, and 1 took it from sister;
I hope you do not call it stealing to take a pin from
sister.
Mother.—Was it your pin?
John.—No—it was sister's.
Mother.—Did you ask sister for it?
John.—No, mother, I did not think it worth while to
ask for such a small thing.
Mother.—Well, my child, 1 wish you to understand
what stealing is—it is taking any thing without permis¬
sion, which is not your own. It may be a small thing,
or a great thing. And I wish you also to know that
children which will take small things at first, without
permission, may take larger things by and by. He
that will steal a pin, may by and by steal a penny—and
he that will steall a penny, may steal a pound—and he
that will steal a pound, may steal a horse:—this is the
way things go on from little to greater, from bad to
worse. Learn then, my child, in your early days, to
be honest in small things, and you will, very likely, be
an honest person as long as you live. Many a man has
been sent to jail for stealing, who commenced with no
larger things than pins, cents, and fish-hooks. Come,,
learn the story of a wicked little mouse:.
THE WICKED MOUSE.
An honest mouse, (few mice are such)
Insisted on her children much,
That they should never lie nor steal,,
But honest be in all their deal.
The children minded—all but one;
He was a naughty, wicked son.;
When quite a child, in spite of mother.
He'd pilfer little things from brother.
And when his limbs grew brisk and stout-
And he could jump and run about,
He was a pest to all the house,
Stealing from every man and mouse.
At first a trifle he would take,
A crum of cheese, a crum of cake,;
But by degrees he lost all feeling,
And gave himself to bolder stealing.
The people soon contrived a plan,
To get around this little man;
A snug wire-trap soon gave him entrance
And brought the lad to deep repentance
His tears were many, sad his grief;
But sorrow brought him no relief.
It was the universal cry, -
That now tho thieving rogue should die.
Puss understood it, and was there,
To take poor mousey in her care;
" I'll tear your bones," said she, " asunder,
" And pay you for your lies and plunder,"-
" Fool that I was," in death he cries,
My mother's warnings to despise;
b1
24
u But steal I would—to hide it, he;
" And now for this in shame I die.
Now children will you not attend
To mousey's life, and mousey's end;
His youthful crimes were his undoing.
They led him on to shame and ruin.
Then let your days of early youth,
Be marked with honesty and truth.
Steal not a pin, steal not a penny,
From brother sister, nor from any.
A little sin to greater leads,
And onward still to vilest deeds;
The child that loves dishonest ways.
May on the gallows end his days.
LESSON III.
ABOUT TOBACCO.
Dennis.—Father I want a gar, please get me a gar.
Father.—A gar, a gar, pray child what do you mean
by that?
Dennis.—Why, father, don't you know? a gar—the
:hing which those big boys up at the College put in
fneir mouths—one end of it I mean,—and then they
:ouch the other end with a coal of fire, and then they
putT, and smoke! O they look so grand—Father I
want to look grand like those big boys,* please let me
have a gar.
Father.—O I understand you—a cigar you mean:
Why child, this is the most foolish thing you ever asked
15
;or: no person looks pretty or grand with a cigar in his
mouth-
Billington.—No Father, that is the truth. When I
get to be a man, 1 will not smoke cigars, but I will get
me a big plug of tobacco, and then get me a big knife
to cut it with; and then when I am in company, I will
pull out my big plug, and pull out my big knife, and cut,
off a big piece and put it in my big mouth, and I will
put one foot before the other and chew, I will—O Fath¬
er, then I will look like a man; will I not?—Father, can
a man look like a real gentleman and not chew tobacco?
Father.—Dear child, you are as foolish as your little
brother Dennis. A quid of tobacco make any one a
gentleman? O fie! fie!
Dickinson.—And I say^e too Father. Billington is
just as far out of the way as Dennis; and they both
seem to me to have a very poor idea of what is grand
and gentlemanly. However, I am several years older
than they, and ought of course to have more sense.
Father.—Well Dickinson, what do you think is a
mark of a gentleman.
Dickinson.—Why, Father, neither a gar, as Dennis
calls it, nor Billington's ugly quid; but a snuff-box, sir;
a tortoise-shell snuff-box lined with gold, and filled with
Maccoboy or Rappee. You know Judge Stapleton, and
the Rev. Mr. Catalinker, how gracefully they pull oui
their bright snuff-boxes, and put in their clean white fin¬
gers, and with a genteel, circular flirt, bring the delicate
powder to their noses. Ah, that's the thing—that's the
gentleman. Father, am I not right?
Father.—A little .more foolish than your brothers;
for you are older, and less excusable, therefore, for hav¬
ing no better notion of what is genteel. Child, there is
no gentility in my opinion, in pushing that nauseous,
16
liltny powder up a person's nose. . ..Mary biiei;,.
my child, you have heard your brothers' notions abou;
gentility—what have you to say?
Mary Ellen.—It seems t<J me that Tobacco was no!
made for men but Tor ladies: and not for them to smoke,
snuff or chew, but to clean their teeth with. O Mrs.
H. does look so happy when shs sits down in the cornet
with a snuff-bottle in her hand, and a stick brush in her
mouth, and gives her teeth a good long snuff-rubbing.—
Father, when I get old enough, will you not let me rub
my teeth with snuff?
Eviily.-— Do hear little sister, I think she must be
crazy. How she could ever have thought that snuff-
rubbing is genteel and lady-like, is very strange to me.
For my own part, I cannot bear tobacco in any shape
Smoking is bad enough,* chewing is woree still; snuff-
2l:;ng*is no better—and as for this snuff-rubbing—O L
:s loo bad to talk about.
Father.—Emily you are right. 1 am sorry that any
of my children, or any body else, should fall in love
with these foolish practices. They are worse than fool
;sh, they are evil; perhaps I ought to say, they are wick¬
ed. Tobacco may sometimes be used as a medicine,
but in general it does no good. It does injury. It is ar
enemy to neatness. It gives the breath a most unpleas
smell; and defiles the nose and the mouth in a mos:
\ingcRtlejnanly and unlady-like manner. .
Tobacco is a poison. It often injures the voice, de¬
ranges the nerves, disorders the stomach, and cuts short;
the health and strength, and lives of many. It costs-
money, and consequently wastes money. Thousands
and millions of dollars are every year spent for tobac¬
co m some form or other. There are many professed
christians who pay mors laoney fos tobacco than the?
17
do for the support of the gospel at home, and for send¬
ing it abroad to the poor, ignorant heathen. It is hard¬
ly to be expected that the old tobacco-chewers and smo¬
kers, and snuffers, and rubbers will give up their useless
practices till they die; but all little children should un¬
derstand the evil of these things, pursue a wiser course;
and grow up with more neat, genteel and useful habits.
This is a duty which the Lord requires. He teaches us
\o avoid all evil, and to pursue things which are pure,
lovely, and of good report. Now children, for Uncle
Charles' verses about Tobacco. Please learn them for
your third Lesson. They are not the best verses I have
?een, but they are much belter than the thing they speak
about. If you chew them, they will not hurt you; if
you burn them, the smoke will do no great harm; or if
you were to roll them up and put them in your pocket,
they will not send out such an unpleasant smell as a
twist of tobacco. And if; as I now request, you com¬
mit them to memory and put them away in your heads,
it will do you less injury, I am sure, than to stuff yo!;•;
noses with snuff.
Tobacco is a useless weed,
But little service has it done,'
And that which mortals do not need,
, Surely they'd better let alone.
Tobacco is ajfilthy drug,
Mouths, noses, pockets tell us so;
Hearth, carpet, fire-place, fender, rug.
All spattered, tell a tale of wo.
Tobagco is a poisonous weed,
It spoils the voice, it spoils the breath:
18
if gives to sickness greater speed,
And hastens many on to death.
it helps domestic joys to slay;
The house of God its feet invade.
Its fumes almost put out the sun,
And half the world sits in their shade-
Tobacco is a thievish knave,
It pockets millions every year;
E'en beggars will a fourpence crave
To buy a twist their hearts to cheer.
Before the weed kings lowly fall,
Vast kingdoms chew, and smoke and snufi
Preachers and people, great and small,
Delight to use the filthy stuff.
Virginia, proud, majestic State,
What is the work thy people do?
The wise and foolish, poor and great,
liaise nauseous weeds for earth to chew.
For shame Virginia! Earth for shame!
Rise nations, from disgrace arise;
Wipe the foul stigma from your name,
Nor worship what the brutes despise. •
Cut down the weed, your pipes destroy;
Cigars, snuff, pigtail, let them go:
Why should they ever more annoy,
Disturb our joys and work our wo.
Children be wise^nor touch nor taste,
From eartiiVdi^ements keep you clean;
19
Waste not your health, nor money waste
Upon a thing so filthy> mean.
Be men, be women; beat your sires
In every bright and noble deed;
Love neatness, cherish pure desires,
But love not, touch not that vile weed.
LESSON IV.
AND NOW WE COME TO WHISKEy!
Father.—Come here my daughter; can you tell me
what a drunkard is?
Mary Eliza.—A man or woman that drinks a great
deal of whiskey, rum, or other kinds of strong liquor,
so that he or she cannot at times walk good, nor talk
good.
Father.—And what is the first step that leads to this?
Mary Eliza.—I have heard you say, Father, that
the first drink, is the first step.
Father.—And what is the last end of the drunkard.
Sarah Jane?
Sarah Jane.—He dies an enemy to God, and sinks
to endless ruin.
Father.—My son, I will ask you a few questions:
Are there many drunkards in the world?
• Leroy.—I have heard you say thousands and thous¬
ands.
Father.—When these drunkards are all gone, will
there be any more?
Leroy,—I suppose, Father, that as long as there are
20
a great many who drink a little, there will be some tnat
will drink too much.
Father.—If a man is entirely temperate, what will
certainly kegp him so?
Leroy.—Let him touch not, taste not, handle not any
intoxicating drink.
Father.—What will cure a man of drunkenness'.'
Leroy.—To quit every thing that will intoxicate, and
drink pure cold water.
Father.—And what will cure the whole world of
drunkenness?
Leroy.—Let all the world drink water.
Father.—What are some of the evils of drunken¬
ness?
Leroy.—I have heard you say much about them—1
could not tell you one half.
Father.—No my child, nor a thousandth part—
The story of the evils of intemperance would be a long,
long story. Tobacco is bad enough; but whiskey, and
its brothers, and uncles and cousins—I n^an Rum,
Brandy, Gin, &c. are a far greater evil—the greatest
'hat our Heavenly Father has ever suffered to come up¬
on the human family. But I have not time to talk it
all over now. I am glad you remember so much of
what I have told you before. But one more question,
and then some verses about the boy and his father.—
Now suppose 1 were to mix up some sweet nice toddy
and drink a little myself, and your mother were to drink,
and I were to offer it to you and ask you to take a little,
what would you do?
Leroy.—Why, father, that is a hard question; but if
1 were to do as I have heard you say little children
ought to do in such a case, I would choose to let it alone.
Father.—Yes, my child, and if you would always
21
io so, you would never, never become a drunkard.—
The verses tell about a father that offered his child tod¬
dy, and the little fellow would not drink it.
Father.
Come, darling, take a little toddy.
It is a cold and rainy day;
A little's good for any body;
Come take a little, child, I pray.
child.
O Father, do not tempt me so;
I fear I'll love it by and by;
And then my love will grow and grow,
Till I shall drink your bottle dry*
Father.
Fie, fie, that Uncle Charles, I think,
Has made you silly quite, and wild;
Would your dear Father tell you drink,
If this would harm his darling child?
Child.
Father, I love you from my heart;
But O, I fear to taste your brandy;
The sugared dram shall be your part,
And 1 will have my sugar candy.
O Father, tell me what's the matter,
At Mr. Toper's house just by?
how the little children scatter—
And hark!—the mother's piteous cry'
b2
22
Father.
Why child, that lazy drunken hog,
Has just come home to beat his wife
The creature is so full of grog,
That all must fly to save their life
Child.
And yet when he was young, they say
He was as good as any body,"
But every cold and rainy day,
The father gave the darling toddy.
Father, if he had never tasted,
Would he have been a drunkard now
His credit gone, his money wasted,
His wife and children sunk in wo1
Father.
But ah, my child, he drank too deep,
He should have stopped at moderation
If we in proper limits keep,
There is no danger in creation.
Child.
And Father, I may drink too deep,
If I should taste your sweetened grog
And O, how would my father weep,
To hear them call me, " drunken hog
And Father, don't the Bible say,
No drunkard shall with Jesus dwelP
That God will send him far away
To sigh and weep in deepest hell?
23
I love you Father, that you know,
O do not spoil your darling son:
But should I drink, and sink to wo,
I'll say my father urged me on,
Father.
Enough my son; I've no desire,
To urge you on to wo and pain;
I'll dash my toddy in the fire,
And never taste myself again.
My child has rescued me from shame,
And filled his Father's heart with joy;
Sure I had gained a drunkard's name,
But for this precious darling boy.
Another droff I will not covet,
(James, break that filthy dem^-john)
For when a man begins to love it,
He is already half undone.
LESSON V".
and this lesson is about whiskey too •
Frederick.—What! two lessons about the same thing?
Uncle Charles.—Yes my son; have you not already
learned that whiskey is a great deal worse than tobacco,
and as you have had a long lesson about tobacco, you
must have two lessons about whiskey, and other things
which like whiskey will make people drunk.
24
George.—That is right, Uncle; let us have some
more verses if you please.
Uncle Charles.—Well, here they are.
THE BEAUTIES OF RUM!
Come children and listen to Uncle's plain verse.
Whilst the Beauties of Rum he tries to rehearse:
The Beauties of Rum! sure they cannot be few,
Since thousands and thousands these beauties pursue.
Hum! look at the monster, and look at him well:
His heart is all venom, his visage how fell!
He's a serpent, an asp, a vulture, a bear,
He riots in tears, and delights in despair.
Hofr wretched his lovers! he rots all their bones,
He turns them to sots and he turns them to drones:
He mangles their limbs and abuses their tongues;
He burns up their livers and burns up their lungs.
He ruins the poor, and he ruins the rich;
The strong and the mighty he leaves in the ditch:
With nobles and princes he ventures to sit,
He pilfers their money, and he pilfers their wit.
A numberless army he pilots to jail,
The mad-house he fills with the maniac's wail;
The hospital, poor-house, are crammed with his prey,
The gallows and grave-vard he uses all day.
He feasts on the pangs of the heart-broken wife,
The orphan's keen wo is his food and his life;
Strife, curses, confusion, and murder, and wrath,
Death, hell and destructipn*are 411Jn his .path. „
25
O the beauties of Rum! come tell what you think:
Wiii you seek for your toddy, and praise it and drink?
O banish the monster that fattens on slaughter,
And through all your lives long drink nothing but water.
Frederick.—Beauties! Why, Uncle Charles, I do
not see any beauty at all in that which you have said
about Rum. If Rum was a real man and was to come
along and look in his face as bad as he acts—he would
scare all the little children out of their senses. O how
much afraid I should be of him:—I would run from
him as fast as possible, that I would.
Uncle Charles.—That would be right, always run
from him—never taste of any thing which makes peo¬
ple drunk, and if the Lord permits you to grow up to be
a man, you will certainly live and die a sober man.
Henry.—Now brother Frederick, stick to what you
have said: when you see this old, wicked Mr. Runvpom-
ing, run sir, run, run.
George.—Yes Frederick, and I tell you I'll run; and
I'll stick to it. Rum! O I don't want that Old Fellow to
catch me. Come, Uncle Charles, can you not give us
some more verses.
Uncle Charles.—Yes 1 have some more for you; but
you are a very little boy, and I fear you cannot under¬
stand them all. Henry can understand them, and
Frederick,! think, cap. understand them pretty well; and
in a year or two you will be able to understand every
line and every word.
George.—O I wish I was as big as brother Henry;
but mother you can tell me what it all means, can't you?
Uncle Charles.—Well said George; always ask your
mother to explain things which you do not know, if
rl
2 c
tney are such things as you ought to know. Listen now
to the verses.
TOUCH NOT.
Should youth around the goblet sing?
In tempting wine delight?
Wine has the adder's cruel sting.
The serpent's fatal bite.
Wine is a mocker, and decoys
With false and flattering breath,
And wine is raging and destroys
With everlasting death.
The prudent will turn off their eyes,
The foolish look and die:
Would you be safe? then be ye wise.
And from the tempter fly.
Who have this wo, this sorrow, strife?
These babblings, eyes of flame?
These wounds that seek the precious life,
This loathsomeness and shame?
Wretches that linger at the wine,
The mixed draught pursue;
And child, this too may all be thine,
If you will linger too-
O touch not, taste not, handle not,
Drink from your Father's well:
Would you on earth a drunkard rot,
Then die and sink to hell?
27
LESSON VI.
CHILDREN MUST GOVERN THEIR TEMPER.
Catharine.—Father, make brother Albert give me
my money—I lost that little bright seven-pence and he
found it, and now he will not let me have it.
Father—My son, do not treat your little sister so,
give her the seven-pence.
Albert—I was going to give it to her, Father, but
she struck me, and then I told her I would not give it to
her. But I did not mean that I would never give it to
her.
Catharine.—Well, Father, he had no right to keep
it, and I did not strike him hard, and he struck me back
again.
Father.—Then it seems that you have had a quar¬
rel; O naughty, wicked children! this is not the way lor
little brothers and sisters to treat each other. Albert
you did wrong to keep your sister's money; and you
both did wrong to lose your temper and get into a quar¬
rel about a seven-pence, If it had been a wedge of
gold you should not have quarrelled about it.
Catharine.—O I wish it was a wedge of gold; I
could then have it made into so many pieces of money,
and then I could buy every thing.
Father.—But my dear child, a sweet, good temper is
worth more than money, for if you have such a temper
you can bear every thing. With an evil, hasty, quar¬
relsome temper, you would still be unhappy if you had
all the money in the world; but with a meek, patient
disposition you could be happy even if you were very
poor. The Bible, that holy blessed book, commands
us to put away all bitterness, and wrath and anger, and
28
io be kind one to another and tender hearted. Albert
what did you learn in your last sabbath-school lesson
about the person that is slow to anger?
Albert.—Something that Solomon says, was it no;.
Father? " He that is slow to anger is better than the
mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that ta-
keth a city."
Father.—And what else Catharine, can you remem¬
ber?
Catharine.—" Be not hasty in thy spirit to be an¬
gry,for anger resteth in the bosom of fools."
Father.—Now I will tell you of two great men, and
then I wish you to tell me children which you think was
the greatest. Bonaparte was a mighty man, he fought
many battles, took many cities, and conquered many
mighty kings and nations; but he had a bad temper, he
could not govern himself. I knew a poor man who
lived in a little log house, and.was not known by any¬
body ten miles from home. When a little boy he
would sometimes quarrel, as you did children to-day.—
But his good mother talked to him, and prayed for him.
and taught him that it was a great sin to get so angry,
He was very sorry. He prayed to God to give him ft
new heart, to forgive his sins, and help him to keep his
temper. The Lord heard the little boy's prayer. He
grew up to be a msn; and he was a good man, a meek
man; he quarrelled with no body, he kept his temper.
.Sometimes wicked persons would try to provoke him,
and the fire of anger would begin to burn a little in bis
oosom; at such times he Would not talk to any body,
but go away and pray to God for help, and keep pray¬
ing and striving against angry feelings till the fire was
all put out. Now, children, tell me which was the great¬
est man in the sight of God, Bonaparte, or that poor
29
man who lived in the little log house, and kept his tem¬
per.
Catharine.—Why, I suppose, according to the Bib'er
that the poor man who ruled his spirit was the greatest.
Father.—And what say you Albert?
Albert.—Sister, I think, has given the answer which
suits Father; but Father, I think I should like to be
Bonaparte whilst I live; but when I come to die, I had
rather be thai poor, good man.
Father.—Remember my son, we should never desire
to be any thing-whilst we live, that we would not be
willing to be when we die. We may die any moment.
No person could bear the thought of dying in a fit oi'
anger; why then should we think it proper to live an
hour or a moment under the power of wrath and spite.
Do, my dear children, (ry to keep from getting angry,
tor I tell you again, a good temper is worth more than
money.
KEEP YOUR TEMPER,
When your temper is stout,
Keep it hid in its case,
For if it breaks out,
It will spoil all your face.
Your wrath will breed strife
If a moment you feed it;
Why nourish its life,
Since you never can need it.
A small spark on powder
Might tear us asunder,
And make a noise louder,
Than whirlwind and thunder.
30
So a small spark of ire
Confusion oft raises,
Rousing up a hot fire
That thunders and blazes-
But if children with care
Will keep their wrath under.
Their days will be fair,
Without tempest and thunder-
But will any one say
That he cannot resist?
Let him watch, let him pray,
And the Lord will assist.
Our strength is but frail
Our fierce wrath to oppose;
But the Lord can prevail
And subdue all our foes.
LESSON VII.
SOMETHING MORE ABOUT KEEPING THE TEMPER.
Henry.—I do think that Uncle Charles is the great¬
est man to hang on that I ever did see. Temper—tem¬
per—something more about temper. He must think
that all the children in the country are—
Uncle Charles.—Sometimes caught with a wrinkle
on their foreheads. Ah my good little fellow, you did
not think that I was so near, did you? You seem to
have a frown on: come—come—I've got a rhyme or
31
two ior that wrinkle; and if you will say them ovci'
every time that wrinkle creeps up and takes hold of your
fine forehead, and at the same time put up your hand
and do as the verses say, I think in two months you will
drive that ugly wrinkle off to Guinea. I wrote them
for myboys when they were little, and they generally
got in a good humor by the time they commenced the
second verse: come now, repeat. *
A way, away, thou surly wrinkle,
My brow should never wear a frown:
And when I feel my forehead crinkle,
I'll raise my hand and smooth it down.
(Frederick.—Mother, Henry is laughing.
Mother.—Be still son, let us hear it all.)
In love and smiles be my delight;
Be gentleness my brow's adorning;
I should not wear the scowl of night,
But the pure sweetness of the morning.
George.—Mother, what does crinkle mean—forehead
crinkle1
Mother.—Crinkle, my child, is an ©Id fashioned
word—it means a turn, a fold, a wrinkle; a thing is said
to crinkle when it moves or grows into folds, or wrinkles.
Did you never see the little ridges on the horns of a cow?
George.—O yes mother, now I know—those little
ridges on Suckey's horns are crinkles—and the old
black bull came up the other day as mad as he could be,
and I and brother had to run and get over the fence for
fear he would kill us. And I saw the
Mother.—Hush chiid—not another word about that.
32
George.—No mother, I will not say any more aiK>ut
n; but when I see brother Henry get angry, and hss face
drawn out of shape, and his forehead with those ridges
■on it, I shall think about the crinkles on that old, mad,
black bull's horn.
Henry.—Ah George, you need not make sport ol
me, for you sometimes get angry yourself.
Mother.—But lhat does not make it right lor you;
and besides you are older than George, and ought to set
him a good example.
Henry.—I know it Mother, and I am always sorry
when I get angry; but O it is so hard to govern one's
temper. I try to think of what you tell me, and what
the Bible tells me; and then I try not to get angry, and
try, and try and try; and the first thing I know, I get
into a passion.
Uncle Charles.—Press on my child, you are in the
right way, I trust, to get the victory. Here, take these
little verses and learn them after I go away. Good bye
for the present.
IT IS HARD, BUT TRY ON.
How hard 'tis to fight
With passion and spite,
And keep our vile tempers well under;
We bind them all tight
With our utmost might,
But soon every chain bursts asunder.
But we must not refrain,
With might and with main,
Put the bit and the bridle on (aster;
Though keen be the pain,
38
Our wrath must be slain,
'Tis wicked to serve such a master.
Pray oft to the Lord,
Read often his word,
In his might press on to perfection;
His grace will give strength
To conquer at length,
And afford us forever protection
LESSON VIII.
THE SELFISH BEE.—A DREAM,
1 slept and had a little dream;
And children, would it irksome seem
If I should tell it? Listen well,
And I my little dream will tell.
I dreampt I walked amongst sweet flowers,
And garden shrubs, and rosy bowers;
The little birds were full of glee,
And insects sung most merrily.
Upon a flower that highest stood
Of all within the neighborhood,
A bee I noticed, took his station,
To mutter forth a short oration.
All else was full of sweet delight,
But he, poor thing,, was full of spite;
He seemed possessed of some new notion.
Which threw him into sad commotion.
" Fool have I been," said he, in heat
" To gather sweets for man to eat;
c2
34"
' vTis time to lay upon my shelf,
'• Something for my own darling self.
" Long time for others I've made honey,
And saved but precious little money;
u My pity shall no longer roam.
por charity begins at home."
" True," cried the flower, on which he stood,
4t Your views are clear, and sound and good;
'' Go elsewhere, sir, and get your honey,
" I, too, must save a little money."
The doctrine spread; and every flower
Declared that from that very hour,
They'd feel it (heir most bounden duty,
To hoard their sweetness and their beauty.
The bee went round and knocked, and knocked;
But every door was on him locked;
Nor pink, or rose, nor jessamin,
Would let the little urchin in.
That good old Lady, Mother earth,
Heard all that passed with joyful mirth;
Henceforth," said she, " I think it best,
To keep my moisture in my breast.
" How many, many weary hours
sc I've spent on shrubs, and trees and flowers;
" 'Tis time to have a little pleasure,
" And spend at home my toil and treasure."
" Amen," was now the deafning cry
From clouds that floated in the alrv?
35
" in bottles safe we think it wise,
" To cork and keep our choice supplies,
" Long have we let our bounty flow,
" On little useless things below;
" By doing thus we plainly see,
" That we shall ever paupers be."
Swift as the light the tidings run,
Up to the ears of Father, Sun;
He listens gladly to the story.
And foldeth up his robes of glory .
Six thousand years have I been spending;
" My things at home," says he, "need mending;
"At my own fire I'll take my seat
" And use myself, my light and heat."
Creation mourned: a wintry blight
Spread far and wide; all—all was night:
The clouds grew pale, and Mother Earth
Was chilled with cold, and pinched with dearth.
Each flower and shrub began to languish;
The little Bee was filled with anguish:
And all above, around, beneath,
Seemed sinking in the arms of death.
Now through tho dark and gloomy sky.
The Lord looked down with pitying eye;
" Children," said he, " now clearly view,
" The mischief selfishness will do.
" Back to your duty, every one;
" I've nothing made for self alone;
36
All, their own private enfe pursuing
" Will hasten on to certain ruin.
Each flower, and bee and man is blest,
" When kindly serving all the rest;
" Love is the law which I ordain
" To heighten bliss and sweeten pain."'
With tears and sighs the children heard,
And meekly bowed them to his word;
The sun in haste his beams unfurls
And shines abroad to distant worlds.
The vapors thick and joyful rise,
The clouds pour forth their rich supplies;
Earth's moistened breast with ardor glows
To nourish every shrub and rose.
The flowers unfold their sweets and beauty,
And cheerful hasten back to duty,
;£ Come in," they cry, " friend Bee and dine,
s< Our choicest fare is freely thine."
Poor Bee! he wept like a whipt child,
But soon he wiped his tears and smiled:
With man," says he, "I'll share my honey,
" Nor hold with miser grip my money."
In generous toil he seeks repose;
He loves his friends, he loves his foes;
Intent on deeds of charity,
He lived and died a happy bee.
My dream is told: Hence children learn;
A11 narrow selfishness to spurn;
The liberal, is the happy breast;
A blessing be, and you are blest.
LESSON IX.
THE LESSONS ARE TOO LONG.
John.—Mother, why does Uncle Charles give us suck
'iong lessons? There are two things he does which I do
not so very well like—he preaches too long, and he
writes too long lessons.
Mother.—Well, here he comes; we will ask him to
give a lesson which will do better for boys that are a lit¬
tle lazy:—Walk in Mr. M. My little son here was just
talking about your long lessons; he seems anxious for
shorter ones..
Uncle Charles.—I am agreed to that? what shall it
be about?
Mother.—I think you had better say something to
him about sleeping so late in the morning; he was too
late for prayers this morning; and if I would let him
alone, he would often be too late for breakfast.
Uncle Charles.—It is not strange then that he loves
short lessons better than long ones. Children that love
sleep better than their breakfast, seldom like long les¬
sons.. But I will rot detain him long. Here, read over
these verses about getting up early; and then go to play.
To-day is Monday, recollect; to-morrow commit one
verse to memory, not a line more; the next day anoth¬
er verse, and so on, one verse a day, till Saturday. If
a verse a day is too long a lesson, I think I must give
you for your lesson next week—n-o-t-h-i-n-g.
DO NOT SLEEP TOO LATE IN THE MOBNIKG.
TUESDAY.
The lark is up to meet the sun,
The bee is on the wing,
d1
$8
The ant his labor has begun,
The groves with music ring.
WEDNESDAY.
And shall I sleep when rosy mora7
Its light and glory she'ds?
Immortal beings were not born,
To rot in downy beds.
THURSDAY.
Shall birds and bees and ants be wise.
Whilst I my moments waste?
O let me with the morning rise,
And to my duty haste.
FRIDAY.
Awake my soul and praise the Lord
For his protecting care;
Awake and read his holy word,
And bow in humble prayer.
SATURDAY.
Our pleasant mornings thus begun
Will yield us plaasnt days,
And fill us, when our race is run,
With gratitude and praise.
LESSON X.
WELL THEN, TAKE NOTHING FOR VOUR LESSON.
Uncle Charles.—John, have you learned those vers¬
es about early rising?
39
Mother.—He blushes—I fear that he has found your
short lesson a little too long, and that he has not learned
t. all.
John.—But Mother you know I have been hindered,
and my school lessons are so hard—but surely I shall
be able to get the lesson for this week.
Mother.— And what is your this week's lesson?
John.—Did you not hear Uncle Charles say it would
be nothing, if I found his last lesson too long? Nothing
you know is soon learned.
Uncle Charles.—And will you promise me that you
will learn it thoroughly?
John.—Why, it would be impossible for me to do
less than to learn nothing—you may therefore depend
on my punctuality in this matter.
Uncle Charles.—Agreed: remember now that I have
obtained from you a fair promise, and if you fail what
then?
John.—Then Uncle Charles, you may say that I am
very stupid, and that I have learned less than nothing
at all.
Uncle Charles.—Here then is your lesson; and I
shall hold you to your promise.
NOTHING.
I asked a lad what he was doing;
" Nothing good air," said he to me:—
" By nothing well and long pursuing,
" Nothing," said I, " you'll surely be."
I asked a lad what he was thinking:
" Nothing," quolh he, " I do declare,"—
" Many," said I, " in taverns drinking,
u By idle minds were carried there."
40
There's nothing great, there's nothing wise,.
Which idle minds and hands supply:
Those who all thought and toil despise.
Mere nothings live, and nothings die.
A thousand navghts are not a feather;,
When in a sum they all are brought;
A thousand idle lads together,
Are still but nothings joined to naught.
And yet of merit they will boast,
And sometimes pompous seem and haughty:
But still 'tis ever plain to most,
That nothing boys, are mostly naughty.
There now, there is nothing for you; now learn it
well as you have promised. Good bye,
LESSON X!.
DILIGENCE IN STUDY.
Uncle Charles.—Busy at your book, I perceive, this
morning. I am happy to see it.
Mother.—My son has become truly industrious—he
has studied your nothing thoroughly, and has taken
hold of his school lessons with new life and spirit; and
says that he is determined, if his life and health are
spared1, to be something more in the world than a mere
nothing.
Uncie Charles.—Well done, John; I would encour¬
age you to press on. Try and learn a little every day,
and you will be a wise man by and by. And not only
41
study the Useful books which your teachers put into
your hands; but read and study your Bible, which is
the best of all books, and pray to God for the aid of his
Holy Spirit that you may understand and obey it, and
then you will not only be a wise man, but a good man-
Now learn a few more of my verses.
STUDY HARD.
Yes, I must sweat and toil away,
And learn a little every day;
The wisest men with care and pains,
Have gathered up their wit by grains.
The bees collect their sweets with care,
A little here, a little there:
And lo! when summer's days are o'er,
They have a full and luscious store.
But what is knowledge without "grace?
Lord guide me in thy holy ways;
O may I know my sins forgiven,
And learn the way that leads to heaven.
KNOWLEDGE IS VALUABLE.
Knowledge is a shining treasure,
Better far than golden ore;
Let us then with constant pleasure,
Labor for the precious store.
When one study we have ended,
Onward still we must pursue;
42
Lofty mountains when ascended,
Other mountains bring to viewv
Minds improved are like ihe morning,
Robed in fair and pleasant light;
But without this sweet adorning,
They are dreary as the night.
Human wit must not be slighted,
But there is a higher prize;
Still we are in mists benighted,
Till the Saviour makes us wise.
Learn of me, says holy Jesus,
Wisdom that is pure and sweet;
What so much should ever please us,,
As to learn at Jesus feet.
LESSON I.
HOW TO KNOW AND FEEL THAT V'K ARE SINNERS,
Mother.—Come hither child, and let us talk a little
about serious, solemn, eternal things. Where do you
expect to live when your body dies?
Jesse.—You have taught me to say that every per¬
son, when he dies, will either live in heaven with God
and Christ and saints and holy angels, or in hell, a
place of torment, with devils and poor lost souls.
Mother.—That is true my child, but where do you
expect to live? If you were to die now just as you are,
where would you go?
Jesse.—1 suppose if I do not hate sin, and love God,
and Christ the Saviour of sinners, I must go to the
place of torment; and Mother, if sister Julia is not a
christian, poor sister, she must go there too, and broth¬
er William, and brother John, and every body that does
not love God.
Mother—Yes my child, this is all true. We must
hate sin and love God. And do you hate sin? Are you
really sorry for sin?
Jesse—I know Mother I have sinned against God,
but how am I to hate sin? I cannot/eeZ that I am a sin¬
ner; I sometimes try to be sorry for my sin, but I can¬
not be sorry.
Mother.—O if you did but know what an evil thing
sin is, you would hate it. Sin is any thing and every
44
thing which is wrong and wicked in the sight of God>
If God tells us to do any thing, and we do not do it, it
is sin; if he tells us we shall not do a certain thing, and
we do it, it is sin. Did you never disobey your parents?
This was a sin against God. Did you never speak a
wicked word? many wicked words? This was a sin
against God. Did you never have any evil thoughts?
A wicked thought is a sin against God. We all sin in
our hearts, we sin with our tongues, we sin in our ac¬
tions. And until God makes our hearts anew by his
blessed Spirit, we never do any thing which God loves,
for until then we do not love God, but hate him. How
can God be pleased with any thing we can do when we
hate him in our hearts? God is very great, and good and
glorious; all sin is committed against this glorious Being:
it must therefore be very evil in his sight. Christ his
Son came into the world to bleed and die that we might
be saved from sin; how very evil then siitmust be, if
nothing but the death of God's dearly beloved Son
would save us from it. All the pain and misery which
you see in the world, are in consequence of sin. flow
very sinful then sin must be to produce so much sorrow
and suffering. Think of these things, and it will help
you to be sorry for sin. But especially, my child, you
must pray to God to show you your sinfulness, and help
you to repent of sin and forsake it. Learn these little
verses, and when you go away by yourself, get down up¬
on your little knees and say them over to the Lord, and
try to feel right when you say them.
Though I am a little one,
Many evils I have done;
But I cannot feel within,
Sorrow for my guilt and sin.
45
Make me Lord, 0 make me know,
As I should, my guilt and wo;
Do thou not my soul forsake,
Break my heart, O quickly break.
Vile and sinful though I am,
Pity me, dear blessed Lamb;
Make me truly contrite feel,
Then my sorrow kindly heaL
LESSON II.
THE PENITENT CHILD.
Julia.—Mother, ask Jesse will you, if he said those
verses before he went to bed last night: though they
were intended for a little child, yet I thought they would
suit me too: 1 have learned them, and last night I re¬
peated them upon my knees, and I tried to pray that
God would show me that I have an evil heart: And O
I feel that I have a very evil heart. Why did I never
feel sensible of this before?
Mother.—I hope the Lord has showed you that you
a®e a sinner; you must not strive against these feelings;
if you do, it will be a great sin.
Julia.—O Mother, what shall I do? I know God
cannot love such a sinner, and I do not wish to be driv¬
en away from him to dwell in endless pain.
Mother.—Go, my child, and confess your sins to the
Lord. Tell him what a sinner you have been. He
knows it, but then he would have you know it, and be
sorry for it, and humble yourself before him, and make
confession of your guilt.
d2
4®
Julia.—And will he hear such a sinner pray
Mother.—O yes, if you pray sincerely, and beg him
to hear you, and forgive you for what Jesus Christ has
done and suffered. Do not forget this. You cannot
save yourself. Your prayers and tears will not save
you. You can do nothing to buy the pardon of your
sins. Jesus Christ saves sinners. His blood that
he shed on the cross has bought pardon for poor sinners.
Now if you will depend entirely on Christ, God wil!
hear and save you. Here is a little hymn for the one
that feels his sinfulness, and is ready to confess his sins
to God and seek mercy through Jesus Christ:
Lord I come to thee confessing.
All the evils I have done;
And I come to seek thy blessing
Through the merits of thy Son.
Foolish words my tongue has spoken,
Wicked ways my feet have trod;
Thy commands my hands have broken,
And my heart has hated God.
But the weary and relenting
Thou hast promised shall be blest;
Helpless, weary and repenting,
Lord 1 seek thy promised rest.
Hear a ruined rebel pleading;
Cleanse me, Saviour, from my guilt;
Heal the heart that now is bleeding,
With the blood for sinner's spilt.
Ever I would love and fear thee,
All thy holy precepts love;
Keep, O keep, me ever near thee,
Guide me to thy rest above*
4 7
LESSON III.
THE YOUNG CONVERT.
Julia,—Can you tell me,Mother, how ajperson feels
that is a true Christian?
Mother.—A true christian delights in God, and in
Christ Jesus, his beloved Son.
Julia.—But how may a person know that he delights
in God and Christ?
Mother.—If we love God we shall love to think about
him, and to pray to him. We shall love that which is
good and holy, and we shall hate that which is simple.
"If ye love me," says Christ, "keep my commandments."
All those who delight to do the will of Christ, to walk in
his holy ways, and follow his pure and blessed example,
are christians. A true christian will love the Bible. He
will delight in the people of God: they will be precious*
and lovely in his sight. He will love to go to the house
of God, to hear his word explained, and to join in
the prayers and songs of God's people. He will feel
anxious that lost sinners should forsake their evil ways,
and love the precious Redeemer; he will desire the
whole world to be saved.
Julia.—O Mother, I hope then that I am a christian.
I love to think of God and Christ:-1 do desire to be free
from sin, and to belike my Saviour: I once shunned
good people; but now I love to be with them and hear
them sing and talk and pray; and I find many pleasant
things in the Bible; and when I went to the house of
God last Sabbath, every thing looked so lovely, and the
singing sounded so sweetly, O I thought if I had winga
I could fly away to my blessed Saviour and be at rest.
I feel that God is good, and that I ought to love and
serve and praise him all my days.
48
Mother.—May the Lord bless and keep you, my dear
child, if you feel as you have said, I trust you have
found mercy. Perhaps then you can learn and sing
ihe following verses:
THE YOUNG CONVERT'S SONG.
Awake my youthful tongue and sing
The praises of my Saviour King,
Who has my heart renewed;
His precious love has broke my chains,
Washed out my guilt, relieved my pains,
And all my foes subdued.
All things seem new: The hills rejoice,
Flowers, birds and insects lift their voice
In sweet and happy choirs;
The stars roll on with brighter rays,
And help me sing Immanuel's praise,
Who lit their golden fires.
New light adorns the sacred Book;
In which no comfort once I took,
How precious to my sight!
The saints, how sweetly now they shine,
Their songs and praises how divine,
They are my dear delight.
My feet, by new attractions led,
With joyful haste the paths now tread,
That to the temple guide;
What heavenly beauties cheer the place,
'Tis full of light, 'tis full of grace,
Here would my soul abide.
49
*Q glorious, precious, happy change!
My joys, my hopes, my love how strange?
How strange to be forgiven!
Come saints and join my feeble lays,
Come sinners learn the Saviour's praise,
And with me press to heaven.
But if you will not go, adieu,
My upward path I must pursue,
To seek eternal-gain;
This earth no more shall have my love;
My heart, my treasures are above,
And there I hope to reign;
Uncle Charles.—Dear children, what a blessed thing
it is to be a christian. Would you not be christians, and
love and serve God on earth, and dwell with him forev¬
er? God is converting many little children in our land;
and in heathen lands where our Missionaries have gone
to preach the gospel, God is blessing and saving little
children. Pray then to the Lord that he would not pass
you by, and leave you to die in your sins.
LESSON IV.
BAPTISM.
Cooper.—Mother, I saw Father lead several persons
into the water last Sabbath, and put them down un¬
der the water and then raise them up again; why did
he do so?
Mrs. C.—Did you not hear him say, I bap-
El
50
tize you in the name of the Father, &c. He baptized
them my child.
Cooper.-—And what did he baptize them for? What
does that mean?
Mrs. C.—Have you not read in the Bible that
Christ Jesus, just before he went up into heaven, told his
disciples to go into all the world and preach to the peo¬
ple and to baptize the people? Now when the Lord
changes a sinner's heart, and he repents of sin, and
puts his trust in Jesus Christ, it is his duty to be bagtii-
ed and to becori^a-lpsmber of the church of Christ, and
let evety .plrsoh^now that he is one of Qod's people*
Sherwood can you repeat the little verse in Galatians,
3d chapter, 27th verse?
Sherwuod.—I think I can. " For as many of you
as have been baptized into Christ have putim Christ." *
Mrs. C.—That is correct. Now I wish you
51
to notice that persons who are baptized properly, pro¬
fess to put on Christ: i. e. they take upon themselves his
name, his commands, his service. They turn then-
backs upon the world, they promise to forsake sin, they
openly declare that Christ is their Saviour, their King
and their portion, and that they intend to love and serve
him forever.
Jesse Mercer.—Does baptism take away sin, and
make people good?
Mrs.. C.—No, my child. Baptism is " not ihe
puttiri^v away of the filth of the flesh," as the bible
savs; it is not that by which our wicked nature is chang¬
ed; the blood of Christ is that, and that only which can
wash away sin. But baptism is a kind of figure, or pic¬
ture of it. Martha Jane, do you understand this?
Martha Jane.—I think I do. See Mother, lrere is a
picture book; and here 1st, the picture of the sun: but
Mother, this is not the sun but only a representation of
the sun. So when a person is buried under the water,
and thus washed as it were in the water, this is not be¬
ing washed from sin, but it is a kind of picture which we
can look upon to teach us that the sins of the soul are
washed away by the blood of Christ,
Mrs.\C.—That explanation, perhaps, will do.—
But I will leave the subject with your Father—he can
tell you all about it.
Mr. C.—Jesse Mercer, turn to Romans 6th
chapter, and read the 3d, 4th, and 5th verses; and
also read the 12th verse of the 2d chapter of Collos-
sians. Now I cannot explain fully to your understand¬
ing every thing contained in these verses, but you see
that in baptism we are buried with Christ, and we rise
with Christ. Baptism then is the picture of a burial;
and also of a resurrection, or a coming up to life again.
52
Now when a person is changed by God's Spirit, and
brought to believe in Christ, his sins are forgiven, and
he is made to hate and forsake sin. He is killed to the
power and love of sin. He is in some sense separated
from sin—buried away from sin. Now when a person
is put down under the water, he is buried you see; and
this is a picture of his dying to sin. But when a person
is truly converted to God, he is not only killed to the
love of sin, but he is also made alive to that which is
good and holy. He loves God. He obeys God. He
begins to live for God. He rises out of that dead and
stupid state in which he was before. He is a new crea¬
ture. Now when a person baptized is raised up out of
the water, it is a picture of a poor sinner's rising up out
of his staful state, and of his being prepared by God's
Holy Spirit to live a new life, and walk in the ways of
the Lord.
Jesse Mercer.—And is this all which baptism
shows?
Mr. C.—No. These verses which you have
read teach us, I think, that baptism is a representation—
a picture—(that is an easier word) of the burial and
resurrection of Christ. As a person who is baptized is
laid under the water, so Christ was laid in the tomb; as
the person is raised up out of the water, so Christ was
raised from the dead, to suffer and die no more; and
some persons think the scriptures teach that baptjsm
was intended also to be a representation, a picture, of the
resurrection of our bodies at the last day. You see then
that baptism is a glorious ordinance, or appointment of
Christ; you should never think nor speak lightly of it;
this would be a great sin.
Martha Jane.—Father, will no other way do but to
bury persons all over in the water? Some persons sprin-.
53
kle water on a person, or pour water, and call it baptism,
do they not?
Mr. C.—Yes, my daughter, but I do not un-
derstand that this is taught in the word of God. Have
you ever seen any thing like it in those places which
speak of baptism?
Martha Jane.—No Father, but I did not know but
what older and wiser persons had found it.
Mr. C.—No, never. They have thought so; but
as for myself, I am certain they have been mistak¬
en. Very good people, you know, often make mistakes.
Christ, we read, was baptized in the River Jordan. John
baptized in Enon, near to Salim, because there was
much water there. Philip and the Eunuch went down
into the water, and then the Eunuch was baptized, and
they came up out of the water. These thingj^do not
look much like sprinkling or pouring. We are buried
with Christ in baptism. Now if baptism is intended to
be a picture or representation of a burial, you know
sprinkling or pouring could not answer the purpose.—
But I desire you all, children, to read and study the word
of God for yourselves.
Martha Jane.—May I ask you another question?—
Who have a right to be baptized?
Mr. C.—None, my child, but those who re¬
pent qyf sin, and believe truly in Jesus Christ. John the
Baptist baptized those who confessed their sins. Chrjst
said, he that believeth and is baptized shall be savgd.—
Peter said on the day of Pentecost, Repent and be b§p-
fized every one of you. Philip said to the Eunuch who .,
requested to be baptized, if thou behevest with all thine
heart thou mayest. Many people think that little in¬
fants ought to be baptized; but I can find no more scrip¬
ture for infants beinj* baptized, than I do for sprinkling
54
being baptism. Baptism is " not the putting away of the
filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience
toward God." Little infants, you know, can have no
conscience about any thing.
Jesse Mercer.—Father, I saw you baptize a little girl
'he other day who was not older than I am: Did she
love Christ? Was she a christian?
Mr. C.—I trust she was. She had seen herself a
lost sinner; she prayed to Christ for pardon, and she
felt that she had been made tp love the Lord and his peo¬
ple; and that God had pardo^d her sins. Her father
and mother think that she is a changed child, a true,
consistent christian; and if this be so, certainly she had
a right to be baptized. O children, I wish you all loved
and feared the Lord, and were prepared to follow him.—»
Seek the Saviour now in your early days—I love those,
says the Lord, that love me, and those that seek me early
shall find me. And now I wish you to learn this little
piece about baptism. If there is any thing in it which
any of you do not understand, I will try and explain it
to you.
Behold ye the Lamb into Jordan descending1,
And bowing so meekly beneath the deep wave;
The Father and Spirit their witness now blending, I
To honor the Son as he comes from his grave.
And who would not walk where the Saviour has trod;
Embracing the cross and despising the shame'!
What duty so dear as obeisance to God,
What honor so bright as the Saviour's dear Sterne?
Ye children despise not this holy immersion,
It is the commandment that Jesus has given;
It speaketh to men the lost sinner's conversion,
His dying to sin and his living to heaven,.
55
Believe now in Jesus, and be ye immersed;
For thousands like you in their bright youthful bloom,
Their love for the Saviour have sweetly rehearsed,
And gently bowed down in the watery tomb.
LESSON V.
ABOUT THE SOUL.
CHILD.
O tell me, Father, what is this,
This, which my fflih conceals;
Which has its pain, which has its bliss.
Which thinks, and wills, and feels?
FATHER.
My child, it is the precious soul,
That lives when all things die;
That thinks and feels whilst ages roll,
That lives eternally.
CHILD.
And in less time the sands I'd count,
And give them all a name;
And then the starrj skies could mount,
And count those worlds of flame.
FATHER.
And were those sands all diamonds bright,
And all those stars pure gold; t
All with the soul Compared were light,
Its worth were still untold.
56
CHILD.
O then I have a precious store,
What happiness is mine;
To live and think forevermore,
Aiid all the stars outshine.
FATHER.
But think, my child, O think again;
This precious soul is lost;
Sin dooms the soul to endless pain,
Unless redeemed with cost.
CHILD.
Then I musraie, forever die,
There's naught in earth or heaven,
Of worth my precious soul to buy,
And speak my sins forgiven.
FATHER.
Jesus, my child, a price did pay,
Dear as thy dreadful loss;
Jesus who dwelt in lowly clay,
And died upon the cross.
CHILD.
And Jesus, hast thou paid the cost,
That ruined souls might live?
Why then should my poor soul be lost-
Since thou canst now forgive?
'fu •
Forgive, I pray; my loss restore,
Then bliss shall still be mine;
I'll live and sing forevermore,
And all the stars outshine.
57
LESSON vr.
ABOUT THE GOOD LITTLE CHILDREN WE READ OF TN
THE BIBLE.
Mother.—Judson, you have read and studied your
Bible enough to understand many things; please tell
your little sisters about Samuel.
Judson.—Samuel was a great and good man. He
was one of the Judges or Rulers of Israel, nearly three
thousand years ago. He was also one of the prophets
of Israel. His Mother, Hannah, was a good woman,
but she had no children for a long time, and she asked
a son from the Lord. The Lord heard her prayer and
gave her a son, and she called his name Samuel; and
she gave him to the Lord. When she weaned her lit¬
tle son; she took him up to the house of the Lord, and
said, " I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liv-
eth he shall be lent unto the Lord." She left Samuel
there to minister unto the Lord before Eli the Priest.—
Samuel was a good child, he loved the Lord, and the
Lord loved him. " And Samuel grew," the Bible says,
" and the Lord was with him, and did let none of his
words fall to the ground."
Mother.—What a blessed thing it is for the Lord to
be with little children, to take care of them and save
them. Dear children, may he be with you., as he was
with good little Samuel. Isaac Watts, can you tell me
about Obadiah?
* Isaac Watts.—I think I can. There was something
about him in my last Sabbath school lesson. Obadiah
lived two or three hundred years after Samuel. He was
a governor, or principal man in the family of Ahab,
ope of the wicked Kings of Israel. But though he
* e2
s&
lived with a very wicked King, he was a very good
man. Ahab had a very wicked wife, by the name of
Jezebel, worse, if any thing, than her husband himself.
At a certain time she caused to be slain many of the
prophets of the Lord; but Obadiah took a hundred of
the Lord's prophets aad hid them from her in a cave,
and fed them with bread and water. This was very
kind. It is said of him that he feared the Lord greatly.
And Obadiah said to Elijah, one of the great and good
prophets of Israel, when he was conversing with him,'
"I thy servant fear the Lord from my youth."
Father.—Children, how happy should I be, if you,
like that good and holy man, would fear and serve the
Lord from your youth. Susan Ann, can you tell me
any thing about good little Timothy?
Susan Ann.—Ye?, Father, I heard you read and talk
about him yesterday. Timothy had a good grand
mother; and her name was Lois, and his mother, whose
name was Eunice, was a good woman, and I have na
doubt she taught her son Timothy to study God's word
and to obey his commands, for it is said that he knew
the scriptures from a child.
Father.—Ana when Timothy became a man, what
did he do.
Susan Ann.—He still served God, and he became a
preacher of the Gospel. Father, do you not think that
Timothy is now in heaven with many of the people
that he taught to be good when he was in this world?
Father.—Yes, my child, all good ministers will no
doubt meet in heaven those whom they were the means
of leading to Christ on earth; and they will be happy
together forever.—Well Catharine, you are a little girl,
but can you not tell me something we have taught you
about Jesus when he was a child? " ■'& \ f ■,
59
Catharine.—You have told me that Jesus was the
only person that was ever born into this world without
sin. When a child, he never said, nor thought, nor did
any thing wrong. He loved and obeyed his parents,
He was not only holy and good, but he was a very wise
child. When but twelve years of age he conversed
with the wise teachers in Jerusalem, and all the people
that heard were astonished at his understanding and
answers. And as he grew larger he grew in wisdom,
'and in favor with God and man. And he never did
any thing wrong in his whole life.
Father.'—Now, children, I desire you ever to think
about that holy Child Jesus, and to pray often to the
Lord that you may be like him. Uncle Charles has
written somp verses about the good children we have
been talking of: can you not learn them this week,
and recite them next Sabbath for a part of your Sab-
bath-School lesson?
EARLY PIETY.
How lovely, how charming the sight,
When children their Saviour obey;
The angels look down with delight,
This beautiful scene to survey.
Little Samuel was holy and good,
Obadiah served God from his youth;
And Timothy well understood,
From a child the scriptures of truth.
But Jesus was better than they;
Not a fault in his childhood was seen;
His feet never wandered astray,
His heart from pollution was clean.
eo
Like Samuel, Lord, I would be,
Obadiah and Timothy too;
And O, grant thy help unto me,
Thine own blessed steps to pursue.
Make me holy, and humble and mild;
From folly constrain me to flee;
And then, though I am but a child,
My soul shall find favor of thee.
LESSON VII.
THE LORDTS PKAYER AND THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.
I suppose children, you have all committed to memory
the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments. If you
have not, learn the Lord's Prayer for your this week's
task—but do not think it a lask—and next week the
Ten Commandments, and then you may study this les¬
son. In the verses which follow, I have given some¬
thing like the meaning of the Lord's Prayer and the
Ten Commandments; these verses may assist your
memory, and help you to understand them.
THE LORD'S PRAYER.
Our Father God, who art on high,
Help us thy name to sanctify;
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,
On earth as 'tis before thy throne;
Give us the bread on which we live,
Forgive our sins as we forgive.
O keep us from temptation's power,.
From evil guard us every hour; ^
61
For thine's the power and sovereign reign.
And glory ever more. Amen.
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.
1.
No other gods shall have thy love
But the Eternal God above;
Our heart, our soul, our mind, our might,
He claims as his eternal right.
n.
No idol god shall be caressed,
Before thine eyes, within thy breast;
To no vile image bow thy knee,
Of aught in heaven, or earth, or sea.
III.
Take not the name of God in vain,
He hates the impious and profane;
Swear not by heaven, swear not by earth,
Nor holy things convert to mirth.
IV.
Remember ihou the Sabbath day,
Now think of God and praise and pray;
Let man and beast enjoy the rest,
Which God has sanctified and blest.
\r.
Your parents honor and obey,
Attentive to the words they say;
With duteous sons it shall be well,
Upon the earth they long shall dwell.
VI.
Thou shalt not take thy neighbor's life,
Nof cherish malice, wrath and strife;
f1
62
The man whose heart is filled with spite,
Is still a murderer in God's sight.
VII.
Refrain from every lustful deed,
And thoughts which to transgression lead;
All those who have a wanton eye,
God charges with adultery.
VIII.
Thou shalt not seize ihy neighbor's part,
By fraud, or farce, or cunning art;
He is a robber in God's sight,
Who steals a million or a mite.
IX.
Thy tongue shall never speak a lie,
Though wealth and honor it might buy;
Be every look and act sincere;
The man of truth has naught to fear.
X.
Covet thou not what is not thine;
Nor at thy neighbor's weaith repine;
Though thou art poor, content remain,
Contentment is the greatest gain.
LESSON VHI.
UNKIND AND DISOBEDIENT CHILDREN- '
j I Krh 4
Many children have very kind and pious parents,
who love them tenderly, pray for them every day, and
teach them constantly the way to heaven. And yet
63
sometimes these children treat their parents very unkind¬
ly. They neglect their commands; they will sot Pol.
low the good advice of their fathers and mothers.—
They use bad words and do many wicked things. *They
live as though they had no souls; they do not pray to
God, nor think about the loue of Christ who died for
sinners, nor about death, and hell and heaven© Per¬
haps some that are now reading this little book, are just
such children. O IrCw can you treat your Father and
Mother so! This is very wicked. It is awfully sinful in
the sight of a holy God. Have you never thought that
the Lord might takeaway your parents, and leave you
pour helpless orphans, with no kind father, no tender
mother to care for you? Who will then trouble them¬
selves about you? You will then remember all your
unkind words^Jand wicked actions, and say, "O that
ivo had paid more attention to our parents' advice and
commands." But it will be too late to recall what you
have done. Think then of your evil ways; be sorry
for all that you have done amiss. Do not go on in sin
and folly, and make your father's eyes run down with
tears, and break your mother's heart, and bring down
their grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Consider
attentively what is contained in these lines which fol¬
low:
O why to your father so negligent prove,
And why will you grieve the dear mother you love?
How oft they remind you of Christ and of heaven,
And often no heed to their warning is given.
In the grave your kind parents may soon find a home,
And leave you poor orphans in sorrow to roam;
Who then, like your parents, will care for your good,
Weep over your follies, and point you to God?
64
When weeping you search out the desolate way,
Which guides to the tomb that embosoms their clay;
You then may lament with deep, heart-piercing wo,
You slighted the counsels they gave you below.
If now you forget them, O think of them there,
And bend o'er their graves in the*fervor of prayer;.
If heaven will permit, they will haste from above,
And embrace, though unseen, the children they love.
LESSON IX.
IS YOUR MOTHER DEAD?
Uncle Charles had two little sons that thUr mother
loved very much. She often instructed thpm in the things
of religion, and prayed often, and fervently, that they *
65
might be saved. But by and by disease smote the
kind mother; she grew pale, and weak; gave her little
boys her last admonition, and sunk in the arms of
death. It is possible that some dear little son or daugh¬
ter, that is now reading this book, has lately lost a pious
mother. My child, do not forget that mother. She was
your best earthly friend. Think of her prayers; think
of her tears: think of the advice she gave you when her
lips were quivering in death; and prepare to meet her
in heaven. If you will learn these little verses and oc¬
casionally repeat them, they may tend, in some degree,
to keep alive in your mind proper thoughts of that kind,
trnder mother wham you will see no more on earth.
MY MOTHER.
And art thou gone, my mother dear,
Gone to thy peaceful rest above?
Could'st thou no longer tarry here,
To bless me with thy tender love?
Yes, thou art gone! pale is thy cheek,
And cold thy brow as winter snow!
Death has forbid thy lips to speak,
And stilled the heart that loved me so.
But mother, I will think of thee,
And bless the Lord for all your care;
I'll think how oft you counselled me,
And gave me to the Lord in prayer.
And mother, when my breath shall cease,
And I must bid the world adieu,
May I, like you, depart in peace,
And ever live with Christ and you*
06
i.;-M')N x.
PRAY FOR You : UNGODLY PARENTS.
My child, have \< -m inigccllv Father or Mother?
Let me aslt von wi> > -viil be the condition of that
rather or Mother, if r1 .'h finds hi in or her in an un-
converted shite? T»m. r .iher must die forever. That
Mother must lie down i : <milsorrow. Can you en¬
dure the though!? ;i•• 11 I have to request of you,
my child, is that you »;i| d.iilv think of the soul of that
dear friend; and tint \"U wiii d .ily go in secret, and
whilst you are pra\i;i^ for yoursril", pray to the Lord
that he would have co nnassion o;i lite Father that be¬
gat you, or (if it Lea Mother,) tint he would save the
Mother that bare you. Perhaps boih may be strangers
to God; then think of them both; pray for them both;
God may hear the hum'ilc and broken cries of a little
child.
In the following verses the woi ds Father or Mother,
he or she, &c. may be used as tl.o case may require.—
If the verses are to bo applied to :hecase of a Mo'her,
let the last line but one be altered, so as to read as fol¬
lows:
Mother, child, thy grace possessing, &c.
THE CHILD'S PRAYER FOR AN UNGODLY PARENT^
Jesus hear an infant's pleading,.
For the Father that I love; t
Help me with thine interceding
On thy throne of grace above.
My dear Father! can f bear it,
That his soul should sink to belli! i
67
Gcd's kind love—O r? r to share it,
But with ruined ; is dwell!
Shall the blissful >1* heaven
Never open to hi-; -: i l!
Shall no harp lo Inn- jjiven,
And no glittering ; wn of gold?
Rouse him, Jesu^, i , ■' 'lis slumber,
Save the Father fiove;
Make him of th,:i i. v number,
That shall reign ^ iliee above.
And to me impart thy bussing,
Save me in my lender < 1 ,-ivf;
Child and sire thy gn.ee possessing,
Then shall join to smg thy praise.
LESSON XL
THE G0ODNE33 OJ? Til 13 LOIJD.
Can I number the su ns of the sky?
Can I count all th>- drops of the sea 1
So many, so deep nml so high,
Are God's tender mercies to me.
My Father and Mother so kind
Are to me theswivt blessings of heaven;
And teachers to J»hhi■.11 my mind,
The Lord in his goodness has given.
The seasons roll n.tmd a; his will,
And pour on niv hend their de'ights*
The rain and the dew-drops distill,
Tn eivn^fpn in v u.ivs and my nights.
66
He clothes me with garments so warm,
And feeds me with dainties so sweet;
He shelters me from the rude storm,
And kindly defends from the heat.
At morning and noon and at night,
His mercy my pathway attends;
With sorrow he mingles delight,
And healing in sickness he sends.
He pities more tenderly still:
He sends a kind Saviour to die;
The Bible to teach us his will,
The Spirit to guide us on high.
Then God should be dearer to me,
Than parents, and comforts and home;
What beauty on earth can 1 see,
To tempt me from Jesus to roam.
I would not the Giver despise,
And worship the things he has given;
Be Jesus the all that I prize,
And earth be forgotten for heaven.
LESSON XII.
THE METEOR.
Ella.—What a beautiful star-light evening! How I
love to gaze at the spangled Heavens! Mother, come
and look!
Mother.—Yes, my child, the scene is glorious; and
69
how glorious must be that Being who made these num¬
berless worlds! "The heavens declare the glory of
God; and the firmament showeth his handy work."—
When you look at the bright heavens, think, my child,
of the great God that dwells on high.
Ella.—See that bright star; Archibald, what is the
name of it?
Archibald.—That is Jupiter, one of the planets that
rolls round the sun. It is many times larger than the
Earth.
Ella.—O Mother, did you see that bright falling
star? I have seen falling stars before, but that was the
brightest I ever saw. What do you call those bright
things that dart along the sky?
Mother.—Meteors, my child; have you forgotten?
Your sister Mary can tell you about them.
Mary.—They are substances of some kind that
move high above the earth; and sometimes in passing
rapidly through the air they take fire, and send forth
that bright, beautiful light which you sometimes see.
Mother.—Bright, beautiful; but how soon it passed
away! Thus it is with the charms of earth, they
dazzle and die. Thus it often is with the wicked great.
They shine for a time; we gaze and wonder, but they
•are soon gone. Their glory lasteth but for a moment.
But, children, do you see those bright stars? They have
been shining many thousand years—they are supposed
to be large suns—they shine on with a pure, steady,
and cheering light. May they not represent the hum¬
ble, consistent christian, that walks with God, sheds
. around him the light of a holy example, and endeavors
to do good whilst he remains on earth? • He shines in
* life, he shines in death, he shines forever. Yes, "they
that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firma-
» f2
10
ment, and they that turn many to righteousnes, as the
stars forever and ever." May I, may your dear father,,
may you, children, may we all be wise—may we all
be the true children of God; then our light will never
go out. Now, Ella, learn these little verses about the
meteor and the stars:
The wicked shine with meteor light,.
And for a moment charm the sight;
But as the meteor darts and dies,
So fades the sinner from our eyes*
Those little stars—how lovely, bright:
Sweet solace of the gloomy night;
Long have they smiled from yonder skies.
Bright emblem of the good and wise.
The saint is robed in lasting rays,
And shines to his Redeemer's praise;
When his bright course on earth is run,
In heaven he burns, a glorious sun.
Lord, give us all the light of grace,
Which sweetly beams from Jesus' face;
We would not like the meteor die,
But shine to all eternity.
LESSON Xill.
TIIE BIBLE.
Bright shines the sun, but brighter shines
The Book that God has given;
71
For here are found those precious lines
That guide the soul to heaven.
It tells of God who made the sky,
And doth in glory dwell;
Of angel hosts who reign on high,
Of angel hosts that fell.
It tells of bliss beyond the skies,
Of endless pain below;
And of the soul that never dies,
An heir of bliss or wo.
it tells of God's amazing love
That was ere time began;—
Of Christ, commissioned from above,
To die for dying man.
It tells how ruined sinners may
Repent and be forgiven;
And how to live and watch and pray,
And onward press to heaven.
O may I then this volume prize,
And in its truth abide;
Its precepts keep before my eyes,
And in my bosom hide.
LESSON XIV.
THE FIRST BURMAN HYMN.
Uncle Charles.—And how do you all do1 Ii is a long
time since I have seen you; and children, how you have
72
grown. Francis, you are almost a man; and Samuel
you are not much behind him; and who is this? Can it
be Thomas Cooper? a good stout lad to be sure. And
as for these whom I knew as little chattering girls—is
it possible! they are now young ladies. Time, how it
carries us along. But did I not hear you singing as I
came in?
Dr. B.—Yes, my children here were trying to make
a little noise, but I do not think they succeed very well.
Mrs. B.—Well, for my part, considering the atten¬
tion they have given to singing, I think some of them
do pretty well.
Uncle Charles.—It delights me much to see young
persons cultivating a taste for music, particularly sacred
music. Do not let my coming in interrupt you. Sing on.
Children.—And what shall we sing?
Uncle Charles.—Any thing you, please. Can you
sing for me a Burman Hymn?
Dr. B.—I think you would have to make Burman
English before they could accomplish much.
Uncle Charles.—Here is a Burman Hymn turned
into English—not by me—for I know but little more
about Burman than I do about the language of the peo-#
pie who lived before the flood. You have all heard and
read much about our Brother Judson. After he bad
been in Burmah several years, and by his labors and
the labors of some of the other Missionaries, several of
the heathen had been converted, he composed a little
Burman Hymn. For many years it was the only
Hymn in use amongst the Burman converts. Mrsv-
Simons, the wife of one of our beloved Missionaries,
(now dead and 1 trust in a better world,) translated the
Hymn into English, and sent it over to some of. her
friends in this country.. The following is the translation:
Heaven is a golden country, seek it.
The happy souls behofil the face
Of Jesus Christ, and forever more
They speak and sing1 of grace divine.
Exempt from punishment;
Sickness, death, old age,
Entirely banished and destroyed,
They speak and sing of grace divine.
Loving with all the heart.
And possessing everlasting bliss,
They drink in and enjoy it;
And speak and sing^of grace divine.
They abide in the divine presence.
The brilliant rays of the divine glory
From Jesus Christ overshadow every one:
They speak and sing of grace^ divine.
Dr. B.—Now, children, let us hear you sing the Eurmau
Hymn.
Narcissa.—We will try—let us see—what tune!—Why,
some how or other, I cannot make any thing out of it.
Emily.—Neither can I—it will not suit Common metre?
nor Long metre, nor any metre that I know.
Samuel.—Do you not see, the lines are very irregular; and
Took, they do not rhyuie.
Francis.—But notice; this is only a translation, it was not
intended to be sung in its present form.
Dr. B.—I will tell you what to do;—Uncle Charles here,
as you call him, is a kind of a rhyme-maker; now just get
him to clip and straighten these lines a little, and then, per¬
haps, you can sing them.
Uncle Charles.—That I have already done. Here is a
little piece containing the substance of the Burman Hymn,
arranged to suit any Long metre tune:
O, seek ye heaven, a golden land,
i-Where happy souls rejoicing stand?
<?1
74
And ever view the Saviour's face,
And speak and sing of matchless grace.
Exempt from sin and sorrow's rage,
From sickness, death and wasting age;
All suffering banished from the place,
They speak and sing of matchless grace.
Love fills entire each burning breast;
Of everlasting bliss possest
They quaff with joy the immortal spring:
Of grace divine they speak and sing.
God's presence is their dwelling place;
The glorious and effulgent rays
From Jesus' face, around them shine,
They speak and sing of grace divine.
And here is another arrangement of the words, a little dif¬
ferent, adapted to the good old tune, Lenox:
Heaven is a golden land,
O seek the happy place;
There blessed spirits stand
And view the Saviour's face:
Forevermore in light they shine,
And speak and sing of grace divine.
Exempt from penal wo,
Sickness and death and age,
No peril there they know,
Nor fierce temptation's rage:
Forevermore in light they shine,
An! speak and sing of grace divine.
Sweet love and peace possess,
And fill each raptured soul;
The floods of blessedness,
Through every bosom roll:
75
Forevermore in light they shine,
And speak and sing of grace divine.
Before the Lord they dwell;
The pure effulgent rays
Of their Immanuel
O'er shadow all the place.
Forevermore in light they shine,
And speak and sing of grace divine.
Thomas Cooper.—Uncle Charles, I intend to learn these
verses, and when I get large enough I will try and sing them
with mother and Narcissa and Emily, and my brothers.
Uncle Charles.—O, shall we all meet in heaven, and meet
those converted Burmans in heaven, and sing together for¬
ever! If we perish at last, the poor ignorant heathen will
riae up m the judgment against us.
LESSON XV.
DO NOT FORGET THE HEATHEN.
Dear children, do you ever think of the peculiar privileges
which you enjoy in this christian country? Some of you
have pious fathers and mothers to instruct you in the way of
life, and pray for your salvation. There are millions of chil¬
dren in heathen lands whose parents are teaching them to
worship idols of wood and stone, made by human hands.—
You have the precious Bible, that tells you of God, who made
all things; of the love of Christ, who died for sinners; and of
all that is necessary for us to know, in order that we may
be happy here, and happy forever; but they have not this
blessed Book. You have the Sabbath, that precious day
of rest; but they know nothing of this holy day. They
grow up hard-hearted, ignorant and sinful; and they do not
know how sin can be pardoned, and the heart made holy. In
7&
sorrow they have nothing to give them solid comfort;
and when they die tFiey have no Saviour to lean upon. Do
you not feel compassion for them] And ought you not to be
very thankful to God that you were not born in a heathen
land, and that'you are not this moment worshipping idols
ana evil spirits'? Many kind-hearted, pious missionaries,
you know, have gone to .various heathen lands to preach to
the people the glorious gospel. In many places they have
established schools and gathered together little heathen chil¬
dren, and are learning them to read and write, and are teach¬
ing them the way to heaven. Some of these little children
learn es well as children in this country; and some of them
have become pious christians, and love the Saviour and pray
to him; and some of them have died happy, and are now, no
doubt, in heaven. Can you not praise the Lord for this?—
But there are yet a great many children, thousands and mil¬
lions, that the missionaries have never seen, and who will,
probably, die before they ever hear of Christ. Christians in
this country are not doing as much as they ought for the
salvation of the heathen. They do not pray enough for them.
They do not give as much money as they ought, to send
them missionaries and Bibles and little tracts. And there
are not half enough of our young preachers that are willing
to go and live and preach and die in heathen lands. Are
there none of you that can pray for poor little heathen chil¬
dren, and their ignorant fathers and mothers] Will not ev¬
ery one of you try to lay aside a little money every year, ten
cents, twenty-five cents, fifty cents, or a dollar, as you may
be able, to help send the Bible and missionaries to the hea¬
then] And are there none of you who will pray, " Lord,
make us holy and good, and prepare us, when we grow up,,
to go to distant lands and labor and pray for the perishing
heathen." If you will all learn these verses, and repeat
them occasionally to your parents, or Sabbath-school teachers,/
perhaps it may assist you to keep alive in your hearts more
kind and tender thoughts about those who have nq J5ible, no,
Sabbath, no preachers, no Saviour.
77
COMPASSION FOR THE HEATHEN,
Ye children of light, where the gospel is beaming,
And God his rich mercies so freely has"given;
O pity those lands where no bright ray is gleaming,"
To guide the poor heathen to Christ, and to heaven.
They know not their guilt; and they know not the balm,
That cleanseth from sin, and that healeth their wo;
They pray to dumb idols their anguish to calm,
But idols of wood have no mercy to show.
O pity those mothers their children beseeching'
To kneel to the altars of devils and pray;
O pity the children that yield to their teaching,
And kiss those dumb idols of wood and of clay.
And children of light, when in secret you kneel,
With Jesus for mercy and pardon to plead,
Say, can you not then for the poor heathen feel,
And for those blind mothers and babes interceded
And will you not plead with the God of salvation,
That light may go forth to the world's farthest shore;
And will you not say, "go ye to each nation,
Go heralds and leach them the Lamb to adore."
And children, have you no small mite to bestow,
To bless the dark lands that in wretchedness lie7
And will you not, Children, in future years go,
Those babes and those mothers to point to the sky.'
LESSON XVI.
Verses for the Morning and Evening and the SalibatlL
FOR THE MORNING.
Above yon Eastern hill
The morning smiles abroad;
May grateful love my bosom fill
To my preserver, God.
78
His mercy stood around,
Through all the night to save;
1 am alive, whilst many found
Their beds a lowly grave.
May i improve this day,
Better than all the past;
With holier steps pursue the way
That leads to heaven at last.
FOR THE EVENING.
Another day has fled,
On haste the shades of night;
Thousands are numbered with the dead
That saw the morning's light.
And yet, O Lord, I live
To think of thee and heaven;
What grateful thanks shouldst thou receive
For every mercy given.
Pardon my sin, I pray;
This night my Lord may call;
But should I see another day,
May Jesus have it all.
FOR THE MORNING AND EVENING.
In the morning arise
And lift up your eyes,
And call upon Jesus in prayer;
When evening begins
Confess all your sins,
And yield yourself up to God's care.
79
THE SABBATH.
Sweetly beams the Sabbath sun,
Holy rest has now begun;
Lay aside your toil and play,
'Tis the Lord's most holy day.
For the Sabbath-school prepare;
Children would yon not be there]
Every child should find it sweet,
Truth to learn and to repeat.
For the house of God prepare;
Children would you not be there?
Ble3t instruction there is given,
'Tis the precious gate of heaven.
Bow you down and meekly pray,
Seek the Lord this holy day;
Jesus calls you, hear his voice,
In his mercy now rejoice.
LESSON XVII.
ANI> TfOVV IN THIS LAST LESSON, LET US TALK'ABOUT
DYING.
Dear Children, we must soon part. We have been con¬
versing together in this little book for some time, and now
you have come to the last Lesson. And what shall it be
about! My little book must close by speaking to you a few
things about the close of life. Do you see those yellow leaves
falH It is Autumn. Thus yellow, and faded, and frail, we
drop away, one after another, into the grave. Did you no¬
tice how sweet and beautiful that little flower was which
you picked this morning] Look, it is faded. Smell of it—
its sweetness is gone. So fade and die the sweet, the beau¬
tiful, the young.
80
Well do I remember when I was a little laughing boy.—
It was yesterday. Now when 1 look into the glass, I see
some gathering wrinkles, and a few grey hairs. To-morrow,
when you pass by from school, you will point and say, " yon¬
der is the grave of Uncle Charles." You need not, all of
you, expect to live as long as I have lived. 1 am not very
old, it is true; but inVv'ery grave yard which I enter, I see
the tombs of many younger than myself. I see the graves
of babes, and little boys and girls;—in one grave yard lie
three of my own little babes close by each other's side.—
This has often made me think about other little children,
and about their dying. James, Thomas, William, Mary, all
of you, are you ready to die?
When I was a little boy I was afraid to die. When I saw
a thunder storm coming up, I would sometimes lie down in
my mother's large cradle, or on a feather bed, and bury up
my face and eyes. I was afraid of the thunder, I was afraid
of the lightning, I was afraid of the God who made the thun¬
der and lightning—I was afraid to die. When there was
sickness around amongst the neighbors, it made me trerrtble;
I was afraid 1 would be taken sick and die. And when I
lay down upon my bed at night, 1 would often be afraid to go
to sleep, lest I should wake up in eternity. Much did I suf.
fer through this fear of death. And why? O! I knew that
I was not prepared to die; I had not repented of sin; I was
not a christian. I knew that if I died in my sins, I must be
driven away into everlasting sorrow. This was the reason
why I was afraid to die. But I am not now much afraid of
death. 1 have not been for many years. And how do you
think my fear of death was taken away? Jesus, I trust, took
it away. 1 became weary of a sinful life, and in my youth¬
ful days I prayed to Him, and he had mercy on me. And
now, whenever I feel that I love the Saviour, and that my
sins are pardoned, and that heaven is my final home, 1 have
no great fear of death. Dear children, religion is the only
certain cure for the fear of death. It is the only thing which
can prepare us for death, and for rest beyond the grave.
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Come, little children, think of death,
And for the grave prepare;
Soon you may all resign your breath,
And sleep in silence there.
Have you not seen the pretty flower
Lift up its smiling head?
But ah! it withered in an hour,
And all its sweetness fled.
Like pretty, smiling flowers you bloom,
Yet you may wither too;
Man j have found an early tomb,
As sweet and young as you.
And whither must your spirits go
When death dissolves your clay?
Down, down, to everlasting wo,
Or up to endless day.
The righteous live in heaven above,
The wicked sink to hell;
Then, children, your Redeemer love,
That you in heaven may dwell.
g2
82'
TAKE THIS FLOWEB.
Here, brother, take this pretty flower,
O take it!—for a long half hour
I've waded in the morning dew
To find the prettiest, flower for, you.
What alls thee, brother?'—wake, O wake!
Your little sister's present taker-
How sound he sleeps!—What ails thee, brother?
What aileth thee, my dearest mother?
And is it strange that I should weep?
0, this is a long, icy sleep!
He hath no pulse, he hath-no breath; s
His eye is dim:—this, child, is death!
& no! it "must not, cannot be!
He soon-will wake and talk to axel.
83
Wake, broiler! lift thy gentle eve;
Dear, precious brother, do not die!
Why put him in that narrow place,
And close that lid upon his (ace?
There is not room enough for breath,
You'll smother the dear boy to death,
Where do you take him?—do not so,
Nor lay him in the ground so low!
O! cruel thus to hi do tny brother,
Deep in the ground from meaud mother!
Mother don't weep; you'll die of sorrow;
Dear little James will wake to-morrow,
And in to-morrows' eariy hour,
I'll pluck for him another flower.
Did I not tell thee, child, 'tis death?
He has no pulse, nor sight, nor breath!
Long will that little precious head;
Sleep in its dark and icy bed!
And you, my child, must follow him,
Your flesh as cold, your eye as dim;
And I and sister—alTmust die,
And in that dreary mansion lie.
The soul dies not—far, far away,
It lives in night, or heavenly day;
Love God, my child—then all is well;
When good ones die, with Christ they dwell.
84
My moments arc flying,
Soon I shall be dying;
O let me then prize,
My time as it flies.
Let me study and pray,
And improve every day;
Whilst sluggards are sleeping,
The wise will be reaping.
And now children farewell:—IF you have found any
good advice in this little book, try and remember it
and follow it. I hope and pray that I may meet you all
in a better world. "Heaven is a golden country, seek
it,-" and I will seek it; and if we meet there, we shall be
free from all pain and sin, and dwell together forever;
and dwell forever with our blessed Lord and Saviour.