The Saviour looks from heaven,
And listens when I pray;
He loves all little children,
Who keep the Sabbath day.
DARLING little baby-brother,
What name shall I choose for you?
William, Edward, John or Jamie,
Frank I like, and Henry too.
Which will you like best, I wonder,
Which sound sweetest when I call?
Charles is charming, so is George, but
Frank I fancy more than all.
WITH glossy, downy, jetty skin,
And eyes of blue, of frolic mien,
A roguish look, and playful ways,
Whose grace one's kindness all repays;
A form of roundness, tiny feet,
That pat along its friends to meet,
Its pretty neck it loves to show,
Decked with a spot as white as snow;
A voice of music sweet and new,
When for mamma it murmurs "mew!"
Yet from her kiss will wildly start,
It has so frolicsome a heart.
All these rare beauties do belong
To our sweet kitten; but this song
Is most unworthy in her praise,
She has so many cunning ways.
O PRAY take your eyes from off your book,
And come to the window, mamma, and look.
See the big snow-flakes, how fast they fall,
O how I wish I could catch them all!
How many it takes to make up a storm,
And they all are of different size and form.
Some look like a star, and some like a flower,
And some like a cloud, and all like a shower;
But prettier far than a shower of rain,
So pure and white, without blemish or stain.
And O how quiet and noiseless they come,
As fast as they can from their lofty home,
Busily clothing the face of the ground,
And giving it beauty without any sound.
I leave you, mamma, for away I must go,
To play with the silent, the beautiful snow.
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.
It always makes me happy,
Whene'er I hear its tone,
I know it is the voice of love,
From a heart that is my own.
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