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.
LESSON III.
OF THE SOUL.
Has God been kind to dogs? Has he given them bodies?—Yes.
Have they bones, and flesh, and blood, and skin?—Yes.
The dog has a body as well as you. Is the dog’s body like yours?—No.
How many legs have you?—Two.
How many legs has the dog?—Four.
Have you got arms?—Yes, two.
Has the dog got arms?—No, it has no arms, nor hands. But the dog has legs instead. Your skin is smooth, but the dog is covered with hair.
Is the cat’s body like yours?—No; it is covered with fur.
Is a chicken’s body like yours? How many legs has the chicken?—Two.
And so have you. But are its legs like yours?—No; the chicken has very thin, dark legs, and it has claws instead of feet.
Have you feathers on your skin? Have you wings? Is your mouth like a chicken’s beak? Has the chicken any teeth?—No; the chicken’s body is not at all like yours. Yet the chicken has a body—for it has flesh, and bones, and blood, and skin.
Has a fly got a body?—Yes, it has a black body, and six black legs, and two wings like glass. Its body is not at all like yours.
Who gave bodies to dogs, horses, chickens, and flies? Who keeps them alive?
God thinks of all these creatures every moment.
Can a dog thank God. No; dogs and horses, sheep and cows, cannot thank God.
Why can not they thank God? Is is because they cannot talk?
That is not the reason.
The reason is, they cannot think of God. They never heard of God. They cannot understand about God.
Why not?—Because they have no souls, or spirits, like yours.
Have you got a soul?—Yes, in your body there is a soul which will never die. Your soul can think of God.
When God made your body, he put your soul inside. Are you glad of that? When God made the dogs, he put no soul like yours inside their bodies, and they cannot think of God.
Can I see your soul?—No; I cannot see it. No one can see it but God. He knows what you are thinking of now.
Which is the best, your soul or your body?—Your soul is a great deal the best. Why is your soul the best?—Your body can die, but your soul cannot die.
Shall I tell you what your body is made of?—Of dust. God made the dust into flesh and blood.
What is your soul made of?—Your soul, or spirit, is made of the breath of God.
That little dog will die some day. Its body will be thrown away. The dog will be quite gone when its body is dead. But when your body dies, your soul will be alive, and you will not be quite gone.
Where would you be put if you were dead?—Your body would be put in a hole in the ground, but your soul would not be in the hole. Even a baby has a soul, or spirit.
One day as I was walking in the streets, I saw a man carrying a box. Some people were walking behind,