I see her smile in sleep
And to her couch I creep
To kiss the saintly face where peace doth stay;
I smooth her silvery hair
And breathe to God a prayer
That He will teach me how to find the way.
PROGRESS.
He, who to elevate himself
Labors with earnest will,
Forgets, that should he wisely try
To elevate the minds near by
And public needs to fill,
Will still continue to advance
And while their cause he does enhance
Will be their teacher still.
ONLY A LITTLE FELLOW.
He was only a little fellow
With a very plain little face
And his teacher said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan never can keep his place.”
He was only a little fellow
With a mouth neither rosy nor sweet
And his father said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan always is under my feet.”
He was only a little fellow
With eyes neither brilliant nor gay
And his mother said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan always is in my way.”
He was only a little fellow
With a little turned up nose
And his sister said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan must keep away from my beaux.”
He was only a little fellow
With tumbled apron and hair
And his brother said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan is out of place in there.”
He was only a little fellow
But at last there came a day
When every one said,
With a shake of the head:
“Dan never was in the way.”
He was only a little fellow
Yet the neighbors came in to weep
While the baby face,
In a rose-decked place,
Was calm in eternal sleep.
He was only a little fellow
Who left his books and his play;
At the Saviour’s call,
Where there’s room for all,
He will never more be in the way.
UNDER THE PINES.
Under the pines, on a summer’s day,
I list to a whisper from far away,
And, lying low, with my half-closed eyes,
Behold the beauty of fairer skies.
Some say ’tis the sound of the sighing sea,
Whose distant murmer steals over me;
Some say ’tis the baby breeze instead,
That rocks in the branches overhead;
But I know it is neither wave nor breeze,
On shining sands and in leafy trees;
’Tis the music sweet of a voice divine,
That whispers peace to each pensive pine.
PRAYER.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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