Читать книгу The Peep of Day - Favell Lee Mortimer - Страница 6

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I have told you about your little body. Was your body always as big as it is now?—No. Once it was very small indeed.

What were you called when your body was very small?—A baby.

Now you can take a little care of yourself, but then you could take no care at all. Can babies walk, or talk, or feed themselves, or dress themselves?—No.

But God sent you a person who took great care of you when you were a baby.

Who was it?—Your dear mother; she took care of you then. She nursed you in her arms, and fed you, and took you out in the air, and washed you, and dressed you. Do you love your mother?—Yes.

I know you do. But who gave you a mother? It was God who sent you to a kind mother.

A little while ago there was no such little creature as you. Then God made your little body, and he sent you to your mother, who loved you as soon as she saw you. It was God who made your mother love you so much, and made her so kind to you.

Your kind mother dressed your poor little body in neat clothes, and laid you in a cradle. When you cried she gave you food, and hushed you to sleep in her arms. She showed you pretty things to make you smile. She held you up, and showed you how to move your feet. She taught you to speak, and she often kissed you, and called you sweet names.

Is your mother kind to you still?—Yes, she is, though she is sometimes angry. But she wishes to make you good: that is why she is sometimes angry.

Your mother has sent you to this nice school, and she gives you supper when you go home. I know she will be kind to you as long as she lives.

But remember who gave you this mother. God sent you to a dear mother, instead of putting you in the fields, where no one would have seen you or taken care of you.

Can your mother keep you alive?—No.

She can feed you, but she cannot make your breath go on.

God thinks of you every moment. If he were to forget you, your breath would stop.

Do you ever thank your mother for her kindness?—Yes. You often say, “Thank you,” and sometimes you put your arms around her neck, and say, “I do love you so much, dear mother!” Will you not thank God who gave you a mother, and who keeps you alive? You should kneel down when you speak to God; then you should say, “O God, how good you have been to me! I thank you, and love you.”

Would God hear your little thanks?—Yes, God would hear and be pleased.

Who fed me from her gentle breast,

And hush’d me in her arms to rest,

And on my cheeks sweet kisses press’d?

My Mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,

Who was it sang sweet hush-a-by?

And rock’d me that I should not cry?

My Mother.

Who sat and watch’d my infant head,

When sleeping on my cradle bed,

And tears of sweet affection shed?

My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,

Who gazed upon my heavy eye,

And wept for fear that I should die?

My Mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,

And would some pretty story tell,

Or kiss the place to make it well?

My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,

And love God’s holy book and day,

And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?

My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be

Affectionate and kind to thee,

Who wast so very kind to me?

My Mother.

Ah no! the thought I cannot bear,

And if God please my life to spare,

I hope I shall reward thy care,

My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old, and gray,

My healthy arm shall be thy stay,

And I will soothe thy pains away,

My Mother.

And when I see thee hang thy head,

’Twill be my turn to watch thy bed,

And tears of sweet affection shed,

My Mother.

For God, who lives above the skies,

Would look with vengeance in his eyes

If ever I should dare despise

My Mother.