 | Poetry for children |  |
Sunday School Hymn.
I hear the voice of Nature's praise
'Mid summer's joyous bowers,
And where the streams with crystal maze
Refresh the thirsty flowers.
'Mid summer's joyous bowers,
And where the streams with crystal maze
Refresh the thirsty flowers.
And where yon high o'er-arching trees
In verdant robes are drest,
It comes on every gentle breeze
From bough, and spray, and nest.
In verdant robes are drest,
It comes on every gentle breeze
From bough, and spray, and nest.
Then, if the things by Nature taught
Breathe music o'er the sod,
How high should rise our raptur'd thought,
We, who are taught of God!
Breathe music o'er the sod,
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We, who are taught of God!
To us he speaks,—from morning's cell,
From evening's dewy sphere,
And when the Sabbath's holy bell
Melodious warns the ear.
From evening's dewy sphere,
And when the Sabbath's holy bell
Melodious warns the ear.
To us he speaks,—He guides our choice
By heaven's own Book divine,
And aids our teacher's much-lov'd voice
To impress each treasur'd line.
By heaven's own Book divine,
And aids our teacher's much-lov'd voice
To impress each treasur'd line.
To us He speaks,—and we in praise
Would still our answer bring;
Here, where Creation prompts our lays,
And there, where angels sing.
Would still our answer bring;
Here, where Creation prompts our lays,
And there, where angels sing.
| Poetry for children | |