. Home songs for little people . laces. These wheels would never move or go, And keep so nicely working,Unless they were, as we must know, Pushed on and kept from stopping. There is a very little thing,To which the motion s owing, Thats coiled within, and called a spring,Which keeps the whole agoing. So I must have a holy springTo set my heart in motion; t/ The grace of God alone can bringThe soul to true devotion. u* 162 HOME SONGS. JNEVEFJ NEVER look sad: Nothing so badAs getting familiar with sorrow. Treat him to day In a cavalier way,And he 11 seek other quarters to-morrow Long yon d
. Home songs for little people . laces. These wheels would never move or go, And keep so nicely working,Unless they were, as we must know, Pushed on and kept from stopping. There is a very little thing,To which the motion s owing, Thats coiled within, and called a spring,Which keeps the whole agoing. So I must have a holy springTo set my heart in motion; t/ The grace of God alone can bringThe soul to true devotion. u* 162 HOME SONGS. JNEVEFJ NEVER look sad: Nothing so badAs getting familiar with sorrow. Treat him to day In a cavalier way,And he 11 seek other quarters to-morrow Long yon d not weep, Conld you but peepAt the bright side of every trial: Fortune, youll find, Is often most kindWhen chilling your hopes with denial. Let the sad day Carry awayIts own little burden of sorrow, Or you may miss One half the blissThat comes in the lap of to-morrow. When hope is wrecked, Pause and reflectIf error occasioned your sadness: If it be so, Hereafter you 11 knowHow to steer to the harbor of gladness. HOME SONGS. 163. IN THE HyAY, IN the hay, in the hay, Toss we and tumble ;No one to say us nay,All through the summer day, No one to grumble. In the hay, in the hay, Willie we 11 smother :Bring armfuls, heap them high,Pile them up; now good-by,Poor little brother. HOME SONGS. In the hay, in the hay, Snugly reclining,Shaded from noontide heat,Smelling the clover sweet, See us all dining, While the hay-makers sit Under the willows,All with their bread and cheeseSpread out upon their knees, Hay for their pillows. Hark how they laugh and chat, Happy, light-hearted!Now to the work they go,Raking up one long row,Fit to be carted. Now comes the wagon near,Quickly they re loading. Rake away, rake away! While t is fine, make the hay,Rain I in foreboding. HOME SONGS. 1G5
Size: 1365px × 1830px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildre, bookyear1872
