Fresh Flowers for My Children

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Samuel G. Simpkins, 1842 - 140页
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第15页 - ... to weep with those who weep, and to rejoice with those who rejoice : it leads us to esteem and imitate the good, and to pity and to attempt to reclaim the bad.
第139页 - They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
第139页 - IN the broad fields of heaven, In the immortal bowers, By life's clear river dwelling, Amid undying flowers, — There hosts of beauteous spirits, Fair children of the earth, Linked in bright bands celestial, Sing of their human birth. 2 They sing of earth and heaven ; Divinest voices rise To God, their gracious Father, Who called them to the skies ; They all are there, — in heaven, — Safe, safe, and sweetly blest ; No cloud of sin can shadow Their bright and holy rest.
第50页 - MY mother, my kind mother, I hear thy gentle voice ; It always makes my little heart Beat gladly and rejoice. When I am ill, it comes to me, And kindly soothes my pain ; And when I sleep, then in my dreams It sweetly comes again.
第140页 - The golden- haired— the blue-eyed, That lighted up our life, And folded were within our hearts, From all the world's rude strife — The blessings of our bosoms, The stars upon our sky, The flowers springing in our path, Too beautiful to die — They all are there— in heaven — Safe, safe, and sweetly blessed; No cloud of sin can shadow Their bright and holy rest.
第78页 - Along the Jordan's sacred stream, And o'er the vine-clad hills, Once lived and roved the fairest child That ever blessed the earth j The holiest, the happiest, And yet of humblest birth.
第98页 - For he felt that his soul was stained with sin ; And his mother could hear him sob and cry, Because he had told her that wicked lie.
第129页 - Good night, little star ! I will go to my bed, And leave you to burn While I lay down my head. On my pillow I'll sleep Till the morning light ; Then you will be fading And I shall be bright.
第98页 - BOY WHO TOLD A LIE. The mother looked pale, and her face was sad, She seemed to have nothing to make her glad ; She silently sat with the tears in her eye, For her dear little boy had told a lie. He was a gentle, affectionate child, His ways were winning, his temper was mild ; There was love and joy in his soft blue eye, But the dear little boy had told a lie. He stood alone by the window within, For he felt that his soul was stained...
第40页 - WHAT IS IT MAKES ME HAPPIEST? WHAT is it makes me happiest ? Is it my last new play ? Is it my bounding ball, or hoop I follow every day ? Is it my puzzles or my blocks? My pleasant solitaire ? My dolls, my kitten, or my books, My flowers fresh and fair ? What is it makes me happiest ? It is not one of these ; Yet they are treasures dear to me, And never fail to please.

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