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Do thy duty, that is best,
Leave unto the Lord the rest.

Whene'er a task is set for you,
Don't idly sit and view it
Nor be content to wish it done;
Begin at once and do it.

Beautiful hands are those that do

Work that is earnest, brave and true,

Moment by moment, the long day through.




There's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in heaven;

I've said my

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seven times" over and over,

Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old I can write a letter;
My birthday lessons are done;

The lambs play always, they know no better-
They are only one times one.

O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low;

You were bright, ah bright! but your light is failing,

You are nothing now but a bow.

You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven,

That God has hidden your face?

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, And shine again in your place.

O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow;

You've powdered your legs with gold!
O brave marshmary buds, rich and yellow,
Give me your money to hold!

And show me your nest with the young ones in it,

I will not steal it away;

I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet,I am seven times one to-day!

-Jean Ingelow.


God bless the little stockings all over the land to-night

Hung in the choicest corners, in the glory of crimson light.

The tiny scarlet stockings, with a hole in the heel and toe,

Worn by the wonderful journeys that the darlings have to go.

And Heaven pity the children, wherever their homes may be,

Who wake at the first gray dawning, an empty stocking to see.


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What does little birdie say

In her nest at peep of day?

"Let me fly," says little birdo, "Mother, let me fly away."

"Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronge
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,

Let me rise and fly away."

"Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby, too, shall fly away."

-Alfred Tennyson


Suppose, my little lady,

Your doll should break her head; Could you make it whole by crying Till your eyes and nose are red?

And wouldn't it be pleasanter
To treat it as a joke,

And say you're glad 'twas Dolly's,
And not your head, that broke?

Suppose you're dressed for walking, And the rain comes pouring down; Will it clear off any sooner

Because you scold and frown?

And wouldn't it be nicer

For you to smile than pout,
And so make sunshine in the house
When there is none without?

Suppose your task, my little man,

Is very hard to get;

Will it make it any easier

For you to sit and fret?

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