图书图片
PDF
ePub

LINES

SUGGESTED BY SEEING AN INFANT ON ITS DEATH-bed.

LITTLE human lily! Meek flower unblown!
By the scythe of the Reaper of nations mown,
In "the dew of thy youth" thus call'd on high-
Was it better to bloom till that dew was dry?
But why, drooping blossom, ere life be fled,
Do I number thee thus with the early dead?
'Tis because the life-pulse of hope is low,
And the grave of the snow-drop is dug in the snow.
Even now, while I give thee a stranger's sigh,
Thy father watches thy glazing eye :

Even now, while I give thee a stranger's tear,
Thy mother thinks of her baby's bier.

Pass away, little spirit, and pass in peace!

Thy pleasures are done-let thy pains too cease!
How can we wish thee to drag in pain
The few frail links of a breaking chain?

Part, little darling, in peace depart

Oh! hadst thou my future, and I thy heart!
Part, little seraph, thy hour is come,

And the Highest has call'd the pure one home.

I ask'd, and I had, the leave to look

On the last pale leaf of thy closing book;
'Twas white as the whitest rose in the wreath,
With a word like a shadow-the word was Death.

I look'd in silence, and turn'd away,

For I saw what I look'd on would soon be clay;
Quick were the pants of the labouring breast-
'Twas a motion that told of a long deep rest!

And there she lay, with a gleam of blue
Just shewing the half-open'd eyelids through,
A moist, a vague, and a sleepy gleam,
As if Death had come like a wildering dream.

Our senses oft wander before we sleep,
And then it falls, long, heavy, and deep;
And often thus the half-conscious soul
Reels on the brink of the mortal goal.

Is thy glad voice mute? Thy bird yet sings,
When the morning strikes on his wires and wings;
The rose loiters yet on the wintry tree-
They are flowers for thy grave, but not for thee.

But other birds shall sing where thou art,
With no music that comes from a broken heart;
And flowers that blossom where no flowers die
Shall gladden the meek young stranger's eye.

Yet, yet we will think that a day will break,
Early or late, when the sleepers will wake-
Oh that so earthless and undefil'd

We might face the Sunrise of Life, sweet child!

'Tis we are the dead far more than thou-
Long are the waters our barks may plough;
And many a tempest, and many a cloud,
Must shiver the keel, and sweep the shroud.

Yet with storm and cloud we may bravely cope,
While on thy anchor we lean, sweet Hope!
And thy two bright sisters, Love and Faith,
Have a smile for Grief, and a shaft for Death.

Crediton, November, 1830.

J.

EARLY RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION—CHILDREN'S BOOKS.

WE have been greatly interested by the progress of an amicable discussion carried on in several successive numbers of the Boston "Christian Teacher's Manual," on the propriety of separate and suitable public religious services for children; and it is a subject so nearly allied to the question of a separate literature, that we must take the liberty of offering a few remarks upon both. But let us not enter the field as, on this occasion, opposed in opinion to the Editor of the Christian's Manual, without expressing our value for that excellent little publication. Accustomed to admire the Boston Christian Examiner, it has been with yet greater pleasure that we have read its humbler looking companion. Of course, its tone is affectionate and gentle; no less could have been expected from the sources whence it emanates; but it is also independent, powerful; often calculated, by its spirit and manner, to rouse young people to self-exertion and energy; and it is free from dogmatism-free, also, from that disgusting appearance of patronage which spoils much of our juvenile literature. There is room for question of the Editor's judgment in introducing two or three of the German extracts; but it is to the individual pieces that we object-not to the attempt to bring before young persons specimens of the free and unsophisticated writings of that wonderful people; and, even in our doubts, we think it right to call to mind the fact that some German books for children, which now so exceedingly offend our taste as to disqualify us from forming a fair judgment of their merits, not only impressed our own childish minds in the most salutary way, but are, we firmly believe, of abiding service to numberless individuals. One reason for this may be, that we do not remember an instance in which honesty and good faith are violated in these books: they tell stories of the good and bad, it is true, but they never inculcate, by parental authority, a low, selfish, and calculating morality: and they make the rewards of virtue to consist chiefly in peace of heart, and sympathy with the excellent of the earth. To return, however, to the Christian's Manual. We particularly admire the translation of Luther's Paraphrase on the Lord's Prayer, the Conversation on the Use of Manuals, some part of the Remarks on SundaySchools, and the Letter to a Mother, No. I. New Series. In this number

we have observed a query respecting the priority of authorship of a story in Mrs. Barbauld's Lessons; that of "The Idle Boy." It is related both by Mrs. B. and M. Berquin, and as the manner of telling it is somewhat different, we are curious to know who was the first narrator. The Frenchman's introduction of the father, with his superfluous bounty, seems to us no improvement.

"There was once a very small child; for if he had been larger I dare say he would have been more wise; but this was not much higher than the table. His mamma sent him one day to school. The weather was very fine; the sun shone without clouds; and the birds sang upon the trees. The little boy would have liked better to run in the fields, than to go and shut himself up with his books. He asked the young girl who was leading him, if she would play with him; but she answered, My friend, I have other business to do. When I have led you to the school, I must go to the other end of the village for some wool for my mother to spin; if I did not, she would have no work to do, and she would earn no money to buy bread.

"A moment after he saw a bee, who was flying from one flower to another. He said to the girl, I should like to go and play with the bee. But she answered, that the bee had something else to do; that it was busy in flying from flower to flower, to collect from them something to make honey of: and the bee flew away to its hive.

"Then a dog passed by: the little boy would have liked to play with him; but a hunter, who was near, blew his horn, and directly the dog ran towards his master, and followed him to the fields. He soon started a partridge, which the hunter shot for his dinner.

"The little boy went on his way, and he saw near a hedge a bird which was hopping about; Ah! said he, that little bird is playing all alone: perhaps he will like me to go and play with him. Not at all, answered the young girl, the bird has got something else to do. He must collect from all quarters straw, wool, and moss, to build his nest. At the same moment the bird flew away, holding in his beak a large piece of straw that he had just found; and he went to perch upon a great tree, where he had begun to build his nest among the leaves.

[ocr errors]

"At last the little boy met a horse on the border of a meadow. He wanted to go and play with him; but a farmer came by, who led away the horse, saying to the little boy, My horse has other business to do, than to come and play with you, my child: he must come and help me to cultivate my fields, otherwise the corn could not grow there, and we should have no bread?' "Then the little boy began to think: and he soon said to himself, 'Every thing which I have met has something else to do than to play: I must do something better, as well as the rest. I will go straight to school and learn my lessons. He went directly to school and learnt his lessons quite well, and received the praises of his master. This was not all: his father, who was informed of it, gave him the next day a large wooden rocking-horse, to reward him for so much application. Now, I ask you, if the little boy was not glad not to have lost his time in play ?"-Christian Manual, pp. 15, 16.

The Editor of the Christian Manual advocates the separation of the old and young in our public Sunday services, if we understand him aright. He thinks it unreasonable to require children's attention to public worship as conducted among adults, and would consequently have them instructed by teachers of their own. This is no new idea, but it is one deserving very serious consideration. We are no advocates for bringing children to public worship at all, till they have some just and general idea of the purposes for which the multitude is brought together. But, at a very early period, this idea may be formed in their minds; they may be, and are, fully capable of sympathy with father or mother in the work they are performing. There is

something, indeed, exceedingly chilling in the doubt that the spirit of devotion may not, on these occasions, warm the hearts of the young as well as the old; though, when the parent's attendance on public worship is an act different in spirit and character from the rest of life; when the child sees no religion but a Sabbath-religion, it cannot be expected that its own devotion should be kindled. But we have in view better cases than these, and, this supposed, it is no exaggerated thing to believe that even a young child may be bearing a part in acceptable worship. Still the plea of greater suitability to the comprehension of the young, is urged in behalf of separate services. And who is to judge of the suitability? The mind of one child may, for aught we know, and even for aught that a parent knows, be in a state of far greater advancement than another, and to keep it in the juvenile congregation will, perhaps, be disgusting it for life. So few men, so very few, know how to address children, as children, aright, that we are exceedingly sceptical as to this whole matter of adaptation to the wants and wishes of the young. Could children speak out, were they not often checked by a fear of saying something wrong, or were there not, in their little minds, a host of undefined feelings which they have not yet learned to clothe with language, it might be found that no sermons please or strike them so little as those made expressly for them. There is a kind of preaching, indeed—a hard, · cold, metaphysical style-from which they can never be supposed to glean the smallest benefit. But whom does such a style benefit? And who would be the worse for getting rid of it altogether? The best preachers, by far, are those of whom we may predict that their earnestness, simplicity, pathos, and affectionate zeal, will procure for them an early attention from, and constantly growing power of comprehension by, children. There are passages in the sermons of Dr. Channing-that splendid one, for instance, on the Ordination of Farley-in which he introduces the names of the great of former days, of Fenelon and Howard, of Alfred and Washington (names which ought to be as familiar as household words to children); there are passages of this kind, scattered up and down the writings of Dr. Channing, high and above the ordinary range of sermon-writers as he is, which we cannot help thinking a well-educated child would treasure up and bear in his mind; while of the sermon "on the Duties of Children," by the same hand, it is only remembered that such an one was preached, and that it seemed as cold and comfortless as such pieces of good advice generally are. And, if even

Dr. Channing has failed in a case like this, where are we to find preachers for our children? To whom shall such an office be entrusted? How easy, to the mind of the self-sufficient! To him who has taken a just measure of the difficulty, how arduous! We mean not to hold up the public services designed for adults as bringing to children a sufficiency of religious instruction; for this, either at home or in the Sunday-school, there is still ample room, and there it is best dispensed in the most familiar style. We only wish still to have the sight of the parent and child attending together in the house of God, preserved to the Christian community. Let not refinements and distinctions creep in here. A general impression of affectionate duty, the feeling that makes a child unwilling to be left behind when its mother goes to church, uninviting as the services may appear, is a very harmless beginning of a valuable habit; and, farther, children may have real sympathy in the pious purposes of a beloved parent, while yet unable to follow far in the actual services: they do not like always to go to school, and be addressed by the schoolmaster. The voice that speaks kindly and admonishingly to their elders, is heard by themselves without suspicion, or question

ing, or any of that esprit de corps which cleaves to children when ranged in the presence of a task-master: and happy that preacher on whom the eyes of the younger members of his flock delight to rest! Happy he who has proved himself their friend by many a kind act, and who thence derives a part at least of his power to win their attention! We cannot help earnestly wishing that our ministers would, for their own sakes, endeavour to gain a strong interest in the hearts of children. To preach to them unseasonably, to take them to task for their offences, to interfere between them and their parents, is not what we want: but who shall say how often a common affection for the man whose office it is to confirm all good impressions by the holiest of sanctions, might not remove asperities on both sides, dislodge objectionable fancies, and strengthen the bonds of family union? We feel that we cannot afford to lose children out of the congregation, whenever we consider how serviceable such agency might be to him who knows how to use it. Our artificial divisions, as well as associations, are to be zealously watched over, lest they rob us of substantial general good, under the notion of procuring some special advantage.

Our doubts respecting the propriety of establishing a separate form of public worship for children are considerably strengthened whenever we examine our juvenile books, those overflowings of the love of communication. Of these many, many little volumes, how few breathe the generous spirit of Christianity! How do they abound in interested maxims, in selfish calculations of what will bring the largest outward reward, the least external punishment! When they are moral, how often are they dull! When religious, how dogmatical! A notable instance of low and interested reasoning, in a newly-published volume sent forth by Messrs. Harvey and Darton, has just caught our eye.*

"Children," says the author, (addressing, of course, children,)" miserably deceive themselves when they attempt to deceive their parents. Artful conduct, schemes, contrivances, disguises, and every cunning form of seeming otherwise than they really are, may, for a very little while, mislead their papa and mamma-but (mark, reader!) parents are wonderfully quick-sighted, and it cannot be long before such deception is discovered and condemned."

And what, again, is to be said for the goodness of forestalling scepticism? "You are too young at present, as papa told you, to understand thoroughly even what is known as to the cause of this beautiful combination of colours (in the rainbow). But I must earnestly charge you not to suffer the very little you do know to make you turn caviller, and lead you to discredit what you read about the rainbow in your Bible"!!! +

Yet this little work is not remarkable among books, either for defectiveness or excess, and its faults are perfectly consistent with a well-intentioned zeal, and a spirit of affection which may neutralize much of its evil. We have only adverted to it as a specimen of the manner in which direct instruction to children on moral and religious topics is apt to be abused. The obscurity of men, when speaking to men, is not so much to be dreaded, as the effect of dogmatism and self-sufficiency. Where they write for one another, they do not venture to lay down with authority such questionable systems of morality, and they are often forced into modesty of expression, and regard to the opinions of others; but the preacher and the writer for children seldom adverts to the possibility of his being himself in the wrong.

VOL. V.

• "Children as they Are." P. 265. London. 1830.
+ Ibid. P. 67.

E

« 上一页继续 »