Cradle Songs. 45 8 CHILDREN'S THANKFULNESS. "A joyful and pleasant thing it is to be thankful." WHY SO stately, Maiden fair, Rising in thy nurse's arms Gathering up thy queenly charms, Like some gorgeous Indian bird, Which, when at eve the balmy copse is stirr'd, Turns the glowing neck, to chide Th' irreverent foot-fall, then makes haste to hide Under the purple wing, best home of downy sleep? Not as yet she comprehends How the tongues of men reprove, But a spirit o'er her bends Train'd in Heaven to courteous love, And with wondering grave rebuke Tempers, to-day, shy tone and bashful look. Graceless one, 'tis all of thee, Who for her maiden bounty, full and free, And guileless bosom, didst no word of thanks repay. Therefore, lo, she opens wide Both her blue and wistful eyes,- Little Babes and Angels bright— They muse, be sure, and wonder, day and night, The sinner's hand in thanklessness receive. We see it and we hear, But wonder not for why? we feel it all too near. : Not in vain, when feasts are spread, To the youngest at the board* Call we to incline the head, And pronounce the solemn word. Not in vain they clasp and raise The soft pure fingers in unconscious praise, * See Hooker, E. P. v. 31. 2.. Children's Thankfulness. Taught perchance by pictur'd wall How little ones before the Lord may fall, How to His lov'd caress 47 Reach out the restless arm, and near and nearer press. Children in their joyous ranks, If but once one babe you greet. Never weary, never dim, From Thrones Seraphic mounts th' eternal hymn. But elder souls, to whom His saving ways Their portion, hear the Grace, and no meek answer Save our blessings, Master, save From the blight of thankless eye : Teach us for all joys to crave Benediction pure and high, Own them given, endure them gone, Shrink from their hardening touch, yet prize them won: Prize them as rich odours, meet For Love to lavish on His Sacred Feet ; Prize them as sparkles bright Of heavenly dew, from yon o'erflowing well of light. Cradle Songs. 49 9. CHILDREN WITH DUMB CREATURES. "The sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den." THOU mak'st me jealous, Infant dear; Why wilt thou waste thy precious smiles, Why court the deaf and blind? eye, We tempt thee much to look and sing,- From feathered playmates on the lawn. E |