 | Original poems for my children |  |
SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY.
The spotted horse is put away,
The hoop, and kite, and top, and ball;
For 'tis the holy Sabbath day,
When Christians go to church, and pray
To God, who loveth all.
The hoop, and kite, and top, and ball;
For 'tis the holy Sabbath day,
When Christians go to church, and pray
To God, who loveth all.
To-day the doll is put aside,
The story-books placed out of sight;
For we must seek a holier guide,
And read how Christ the Saviour died
For us on Calvary's height.
The story-books placed out of sight;
For we must seek a holier guide,
And read how Christ the Saviour died
For us on Calvary's height.
The creaking waggon 's in the shed,
The busy flail is heard no more;
The horse is littered down and fed,
The harness hangs above his head,
The whip behind the door.
The busy flail is heard no more;
The horse is littered down and fed,
The harness hangs above his head,
The whip behind the door.
His leathern gloves and hookëd bill
To-day the woodman throws aside;
The blacksmith's fiery forge is still;
The wooden wheel of the old mill
Sleeps in the mill-dam wide.
To-day the woodman throws aside;
The blacksmith's fiery forge is still;
The wooden wheel of the old mill
Sleeps in the mill-dam wide.
The miller's boat is anchored, where
Far out, the water lilies sleep,
You see their shadows mirrored there,
The broad white flowers reflected clear
Within the mill-pool deep.
Far out, the water lilies sleep,
You see their shadows mirrored there,
The broad white flowers reflected clear
Within the mill-pool deep.
The barrow 's in the garden shed,
Hoe, rake, and spade, are put away;
Unweeded stands the onion bed,
The gardener from his work hath fled,
This holy Sabbath day.
Hoe, rake, and spade, are put away;
Unweeded stands the onion bed,
The gardener from his work hath fled,
This holy Sabbath day.
Upon the wall the white cat sleeps,
By which the churns and milk pans lie;
A drowsy watch the house-dog keeps,
And scarcely from his dull eye peeps
Upon the passer-by.
By which the churns and milk pans lie;
A drowsy watch the house-dog keeps,
And scarcely from his dull eye peeps
Upon the passer-by.
And sweetly over hill and dale
The silvery-sounding church bells ring;
Across the moor and down the dale
They come and go, and on the gale
Their Sabbath tidings fling.
The silvery-sounding church bells ring;
Across the moor and down the dale
They come and go, and on the gale
Their Sabbath tidings fling.
From where the whitewashed Sunday-school
Peeps out between the poplars dim,
Which ever throw their shadows cool
Far out upon the rushy pool,
You hear the Sabbath hymn.
Peeps out between the poplars dim,
Which ever throw their shadows cool
Far out upon the rushy pool,
You hear the Sabbath hymn.
From farm and field, and grange grown grey;
From woodland walks and winding ways,
The old and young, the grave and gay,
Unto the old church come to pray,
And sing God's holy praise.
From woodland walks and winding ways,
The old and young, the grave and gay,
Unto the old church come to pray,
And sing God's holy praise.
For the great God himself did say,
Thou shalt rest one day out of seven;
And set apart that holy day
To worship Me, and sing, and pray,
If thou wouldst enter Heaven.
Thou shalt rest one day out of seven;
And set apart that holy day
To worship Me, and sing, and pray,
If thou wouldst enter Heaven.
| Original poems for my children | |