Читать книгу The Infant's Delight: Poetry - Unknown - Страница 9

The lit-tle birds by God are fed

But man must earn his dai-ly bread,

And work that he may eat;

Striv-ing his best, as John does now,

The broad ten-acre field to plough,

Where-in to sow the wheat.

Old John, the plough-man, ne'er re-pines,

Whe-ther it blows, or rains, or shines,

But hap-py still does seem;

And Dick, who leads the fore-most horse,

Goes whist-ling as he walks across

The field be-side the team.

Let us per-form as glad-ly, too,

The work our Mas-ter bids us do,

And then we need not fear;

But when from earth-ly toil we rest,

We all shall meet a-mong the blest

Who served Him tru-ly here.