. Original poems, for infant minds . MY FATHER. P. 60. POR INFANT 61. Who climbd with me, the mountains height,And watchd my look of dread delight,While rose the glorious orb of light ? My Father Who, from each flower and verdant stalk,Gatherd a honeyd store of talk,To fill the long, delightful walk ? My Father, Not on an insect would he tread ;Nor strike the stinging nettle dead;Who taught at once my heart and head ? My Father Who wrote upon that heart the lineReligion gravd on Virtues shrine,To make the human race divine? 6 My Father. 62 ORIGINAL POEMS, Who taught my early mind to knowThe Go

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. Original poems, for infant minds . MY FATHER. P. 60. POR INFANT 61. Who climbd with me, the mountains height,And watchd my look of dread delight,While rose the glorious orb of light ? My Father Who, from each flower and verdant stalk,Gatherd a honeyd store of talk,To fill the long, delightful walk ? My Father, Not on an insect would he tread ;Nor strike the stinging nettle dead;Who taught at once my heart and head ? My Father Who wrote upon that heart the lineReligion gravd on Virtues shrine,To make the human race divine? 6 My Father. 62 ORIGINAL POEMS, Who taught my early mind to knowThe God from whom all blessings flow,Creator of all things below ? My Father. Who, now, in pale and placid lightOf memry gleams upon my sight,Bursting the sepulchre of night ? My Father. Oh! teach me still the Christian plan;Thy practice with thy precept ran:Nor yet desert me now a man, My Father. Still let thy scholars heart rejoice,With charms of thy angelic voice,Still prompt the motive and the choice, My Father. For yet remains a little space,Till I shall meet thee f

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1830, bookidoriginalpoem, bookyear1834