15
I must not teaze my Mother;
She loves me all the day,
And she has patience with my faults,
And teaches me to pray;
How much I'll strive to please her,
She every hour shall see,
For should she go away, or die,
What would become of me?
Morning Thoughts.
Dark night away hath roll'd,
Glad birds are soaring high,
And see,—a ray like dazzling gold
Comes darting from the sky.
How shall I thank the Power
Whose hand sustains me so,
And o'er each waking plant and flower
Bids dews of mercy flow?
Teach me to look above;
Receive my morning prayer,
