Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,
We will not treat our parents so:
Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,

We will not treat them so.

2. There is a holy book that says,

Our parents we must always love;
And if we should forget their age,
It will be marked above.

Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,

We will not treat our parents so:
Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,
We will not treat them so.

3. There was a wicked son who turn'd
His poor old mother from his door;
And his own child forsook him too,
When he was old and poor.

Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,

We will not treat our parents so:

Oh no, no, no, oh no, no, no,

We will not treat them so.

No. 28. THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND. (L. M.) Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

POETRY BY MONTGOMERY.

Young Choir, 44. Musical Gems, 187, (Retreat.)
1. A poor wayfaring man of grief

MATT. XXV. 40.

School Singer, 160.

Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief,
That I could never answer nay.

I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye,
That won my love, I knew not why.

2. Once when my scanty meal was spread, He entered-not a word he spake, Just perishing for want of bread,

I

gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then;
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.

3. I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on.

I ran and raised the sufferer up;

Twice from the stream he drained my cup, Dipt, and returned it running o'er,

I drank, and never thirsted more.

4. 'T was night. The floods were out, it blew A winter hurricane aloof;

I heard his voice abroad, and flew

To bid him welcome to my roof;

I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest,
I laid him on my couch to rest;

Then made the ground my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

5. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment ;-he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

6. In prison I saw him next condemned,
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him, midst shame and scorn.
My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die;

The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill,
But the free spirit cried "I will.”

7. Then in a moment to my view,

The stranger started from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew,

My Saviour stood before my eyes.
He spake, and my poor name He named-
"Of Me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto Me."

No. 29.

School Singer, 49.

ROUND (IN FOur parts.)

Flora's Festival, 50.

1. Day is gone,

2. Night is come;

3. When the day of life is flown,
4. Heaven be our home.

No. 30.

SCHOOL IS BEGUN.

Young Melodist, 58.

1. School is begun, so come every one,
And come with smiling faces,

For happy are they who learn when they may,
So come and take your places.

2. Here you will find your teachers are kind,
And with their help succeeding,

The older you grow the more you will know,
And soon you'll love your reading.

3. Little boys, when you grow to be men,
And fill some useful station,

If you should be once found out as a dunce, vexation.

O think of your

4. Little girls too, a lesson for you,

To learn is now your duty,

Or no one will deem you worthy esteem,
Whate'er your youth or beauty.

No. 31. A "VERY LITTLE SONG" FOR LITTLE

CHILDREN.

1. Very little things are we,

Oh how mild we all should be.

School Singer, 169.

2. Never quarrel, never fight,
That would be a shocking sight.

3. We'll be gentle all the day, Love to learn as well as play.

4. Just like pretty little lambs, Love to learn as well as play.

5. Very little things are we,
Oh how mild we all should be.

No. 32.

BOB O'LINKUM.

Juvenile Choir. 68.

1. Tinkle, tinkle, Mister Ninkum,
I am merry Bob O'Linkum ;
Tinkle, tinkle, Mister Linkum,
I am merry Bob O’Linkum.
Prithee tell me what's the matter,
That your making such a clatter,
Can't you leave us honest folks,

To sing our songs and crack our jokes.

|| 2. But you come, O naughty Ninkum,
All unheeding Bob O’Linkum ; :||
And you swing your saucy blade,
Where my little nest is made;
And you cut the blooming clover,
Which did wrap my young ones over.