. Home songs for little people . y choose the way;Little we care the path we take, If we re nearer home each day. THE QOLDEN RULE, LOVE and kindness we may measureBy this simple rule alone : Do we mind our neighbors pleasureJust as if it were our own ? 188 HOME SONGS. Let us try to care for others,Nor suppose ourselves the best; We should all be friends and brothers:T was the Saviours last request. SING to the Lord the childrens hymn, His gentle love declare,Who bends amid the cherubim To hear the childrens prayer. He at a mothers breast was fed,Though Gods own Son was he ; He learned the firs
. Home songs for little people . y choose the way;Little we care the path we take, If we re nearer home each day. THE QOLDEN RULE, LOVE and kindness we may measureBy this simple rule alone : Do we mind our neighbors pleasureJust as if it were our own ? 188 HOME SONGS. Let us try to care for others,Nor suppose ourselves the best; We should all be friends and brothers:T was the Saviours last request. SING to the Lord the childrens hymn, His gentle love declare,Who bends amid the cherubim To hear the childrens prayer. He at a mothers breast was fed,Though Gods own Son was he ; He learned the first small words he said,Meek at his mothers knee. He held us to his mighty breast, The children of the earth ;He lifted up his hands and blessed The babes of human birth. Although he is the Son of God, Our gracious Saviour, too,The scenes we tread his footsteps trod, The paths of youth he knew. And from the stars his face will turn On us with glances mild ;The angels of his presence yearn To bless the little child. HOME SONGS. 189. THE J3HOEMAKER. WANDERING up and down one day, I peeped in a window over the way, And putting his needle through and through, There sat the cobbler making a shoe. Kat-a-tap, tap, Tick-a-tack, too;This is the way I make a shoe. Oer lasts of wood his bits of leather He stretches and fits, then sews together; 190 HOME SONGS. He puts liis waxed-ends through and through,And still as he stitches his body goes too. Bat-a-tap, tap, Tick-a-tack, too;This is the way I make a shoe. Now with his hammer he giveth a tapTo the shoe so firmly fixed in his lap;His head it goes up, and his head it goes down, But on his face there rests never a , etc. With his little sharp awl then he maketh a holeEight through the upper and right through the sole; He puts in one peg or he puts in two,And laughs and sings as he hammers them through. Bat-a-tap, etc. The shoemakers hands are smutty and grim,And for a clean shirt he cares not a pin;But bright is his face with
Size: 1748px × 1429px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildre, bookyear1872