Our Father's Care. M # 
 
 A BALLAD 
 
 BY MKS. SEWELL, 
 
 Of r Mi 
 
 LDS," M llOMSLY BALLADS," 
 100K," &.0, 
 
 jfcwm i&e §«i 
 
 ;J) lonlJoa EMion. 
 
 a ] I N D , v 
 
 PRtSBVTERUi: ; arfMlTTEE.OF PJ3LICATI0N, 
 
 1S64. 
 
" Oixx* ITatlt.ei'*'® Care." 
 
 A. BALLAD, 
 
 BY MKS. SEWELL, 
 
 Author of "Mother's Last Words," "Homely ballads," 
 "Tee Children of Scmmererook," &.c. 
 
 jfrom tijt totnts-stititt^ i,onfcait SEMtCon:. 
 
 RICHMOND, VA: 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION. 
 
 1864. 
 

 OUR FATHER'S CAEE 
 
 No. 70. - 
 
 "TVTS five by the clock cm a wintry morn, 
 
 -*• And dark in the east lies the lingering dawn ; 
 The populous city is slumbering still, — 
 And the silent whirl and the tramp of the mill ; 
 The shuddering, wrestling, struggle of life, 
 The pitiless crush, and the perilous strife, 
 Have paused for a moment — with daylight, the strain 
 Of London's great city, will go on again. 
 
 The old parish clock had just finished its stroke, 
 When suddenly starting, poor Nelly* awoke : 
 So young and so little, so slender and spare, 
 Wh*.t work can she do in this city of care ! 
 She wakes up to poverty, hardship, and pain, — 
 Poor child! Beetle down there, and slumber again. 
 But no — she is rising — there wants nothing more, 
 To rouse her from that humble bed on the floor : 
 She catches tight hold of a rickety chair, 
 And stands for a moment unconsciously there ; 
 And then, as her little limbs shiver and shake, 
 The light of her spirit begins to awake. 
 
 The gas lamp that burns in the alley below, 
 Just gives light enough in the chamber to show 
 Her poor mother quietly laid on her bed, — 
 So quiet, that Nelly thinks— Is mother dead ? 
 And creeps near to listen — " Oh ! no, she's at rest, 
 And there's pretty baby, asleep on her breast ; 
 And I will not awake her— poor mother ! Oh ! no — 
 
 * Tb.e age, occupation, and early maturity of little Nelly, are sketched 
 tram U&. 
 
 T72ZZZ 
 
4 OZR FATHER? CARJ 
 
 She says, I am now all her comfort below ; 
 And we should soon perish of hunger, she Mttd 
 If I was not aLle to work for the bread. 
 The Hospital Doctor w»s sure yesterday, 
 That father would still have a long while to stay, 
 And then, must not take to ha work us before * r 
 And poor father said, he should do it no more, 
 And then he cried sadly, and ' Nelly,' said he, 
 'You'll all be starved, darling, as sure as can be/ 
 Says I, 'Father, eheei up, a d >\- n't be afraid, 
 For you may depend on your own little maid;' 
 So nuw, I'll be going to Farringdon Street, 
 That we may have iire, and something to eat." 
 
 She takes up her clothes, that had Iain on the bed*,. 
 No blanket had Nelly, they sewed her instead ; 
 She puts theai as decently on as she may, 
 But many a fastening had broken away ; 
 And many a rent, often mended with pain, 
 Through age and long service, had worn out again ; 
 'Twere doubtful if one scanty garment could claim. 
 In form or in fashion, the right to a name. 
 To fasten them close, they were folded and pinned, 
 To keep them from blowing about in the wind ; 
 And over the whole was a :vd woollen shawl, 
 And mother's black bonnet surmounted it all. 
 
 The poor little figure looked elfish and wild, 
 With nought but the size, that bespoke it a child ; 
 And quaint were her speeches, and womanly wise, 
 
 While courage and cheerfulness lit up her eyes.. 
 
 "Ah! Nelly, my blessing,"-- the sick woman said, 
 " And are you now ready, my good little maid? 
 The ha'pence lie there r at the end of die shelf, 
 And mind, Jove, don't over-wteary yonfself; 
 But get to the market before it is late, 
 And don't let the loiterers tempt you to wait. 
 Use plenty of water to wash the cress sweet, 
 And tic all the bunches up, pretty and neat ; 
 
THE MOTHER S ADVICE 5 
 
 And speak the truth, Nelly, whatever you do, 
 And don't touch a tiling, not Belonging to you ; 
 Kemember that God keeps you always in sight, 
 And sees through the dark, just as well as the light. 
 And come back as soon as you can in the day, 
 'Tis lonely up here, child, when you are away; 
 And I shall b<r v w id of a hot cup of tea, 
 And nice little lire, for baby and me — 
 So run off my blessing and don't be afraid, 
 For God will take care of my good little maid." 
 
 " Good-bye. 11 said the child, " I shall run all the way, 
 And buy the first cress in the market to-day." 
 
 She takes the cress-bask < i v^. under her arm, 
 No lodger awakens or feel \ an alarm ; 
 Or if they should noticq a step on the stair. 
 Or cold creeping in from lie' chill morning air, 
 'Tis but the poor water-cre s girl, they will say, 
 Who goes to the market betore break of day; 
 And turn round to sleep with a sigh, of regret, 
 Not selfish or careless, but glad to forget. 
 
 And so she goes forth in the dark and the cold, 
 
 A brave little girl of but eight years old. 
 
 Through street and through alley, both narrow and w'dc, 
 
 Without a companion, a light, or a guide, 
 
 With shivering limbs, and her pattering feet, 
 
 She's running along in the desolate street. 
 
 Oh ! bitterly cold did the piercing wind blow, 
 
 And bore on its wild wing the sleet and the snow, 
 
 Round eddying corners and shadowy ways, 
 
 Dim lit by the distant lamp's flickering blaze. 
 
 No smiling face looked from those windows so high, 
 
 To cheer the brave child — who was hurrying by ; 
 
 The windows were curtained. — the shadows were deep, 
 
 For still the great city was buried in sleep. 
 
 But rapidly onward, her little feet go, 
 
 Through street and through alley, by market and row; 
 
 She knows all the turns, and the readiest beat. 
 
 J7Z3.X0L 
 
6 OLR FATHER 1 6AR£. 
 
 That brings her the soonest to Farringdon Street. 
 
 She's past the Exchange, and the Bank, and Cheapside, 
 
 To where St. Paul's rises in towering pride ; 
 
 Nor heeds she the deep frowning shadow t 1 . a t falls, 
 
 Nor whispering echoes thai talk by St. Paul's; 
 
 She's used to the echo, she's used to the sh#de, 
 
 There's nothing in them to make Nelly * 
 
 But at the great prison, she quickens her pace, 
 
 She once saw a gibbet set up in that. place : 
 
 She knows a bad boy in confinement there now. 
 
 Who once lived beside them in W.iitcchapel Row. 
 
 She saw him herself on the very game day, 
 
 When two strong policemen had dragged him away; 
 
 She saw how he struggled, how white hii face grew, 
 
 When told of the place they were taking him to; 
 
 She wonders whenever he'll get out again, 
 
 And if he is fettered, and cries with the pain; 
 
 She listens a moment — there U not a sound, 
 
 Except the wild wind, that w liatling round, — ■ 
 
 Js that Billy screaming ? What sounded to shrill? — 
 
 She's off like a dart to the foot of the 1J ill. 
 
 None to speak to poor Nelly,, and she speaks to none, 
 Through ail the great City, she's passing alone. 
 The morning patrol, on his earliest beat, 
 Sees fluttering garments and hurrying feet ; 
 And lets her pass by, with a half- dreamy eys, 
 Nor asks her a question, nor seeks a r^ply. 
 
 And what are the thoughts that are filling her mind y 
 
 As street after street she is leaving behind V 
 
 Thinks she of a dolly, a book, or a bail ?■ - 
 
 She never had played with a dolly at all : 
 
 Thinks she of a game, when the school hours are done — 
 
 Of school-fellows romping, and laughing, and fun ? 
 
 She never had been in a school-room to learn : 
 
 Poor Nelly has long had a living to earn — 
 
 She's thinking perhaps 'tis a hardship for her 
 
 To get up so early, and travel so far ; 
 
 Whilst other girls always have plenty of food. 
 
And she has not anything, pretty or good ?- — 
 No — trrfles like these arc not filling her mind, 
 As street after street she is leaving behind — 
 She's thinking about the poor baby that's come. 
 And mother so weak, and so helpless at home ; 
 And says with a shake of her rough little head, — 
 " But I am the woman that works for their bread." 
 
 Good, brave little girl, with your old tattered shoe, 
 
 And toes on the cold pavement, frozen and blue; 
 Despite your poor dress, and that careful young faeft, 
 
 You're worthy to rank with the noblest race ! 
 
 The Farringdon market is open at five, 
 To Bell to a hovering, shivering hive 
 Of destitute children and indigent poor, 
 
 The fresh water-cresses, they cry at the door. 
 
 The bright flaring lamp in the cress market shows, 
 
 Their thin eager faces, and old tattered clothes. 
 
 Ah ! look at them now. as they handle the green, 
 
 Was 'ere such a pitiful company e 
 
 With only one thought. — how to earn for thu day, 
 
 bhiongh to keep cold and starvation away. 
 
 But see — pushing through the confusion and din, 
 
 That mite of a child is now hurrying in: 
 
 She elbows her way on to look at the c.r^>r,, 
 
 And chooses her lot, be it many or less. 
 
 She stops not to question what others may do, 
 
 ]f they purchase many, or only a few. 
 
 Rhe carefully reckons her number of pence, 
 
 And thai is the measure fur Nelly's expeneo. 
 
 There's none to advise her, there's no one to feel, 
 
 'Tis each for himself, and 'tis all for a meal. 
 
 She pays for her bundle, and hurries along, 
 
 And pushes her way through the jostling throng ; 
 
 Then squats on her heels in the slippery street, 
 
 To pick the cress over, and tie it up neat. 
 
 Then off to the pump she courageously goes, 
 
 Ah, me! for those poor little half-frozen toes; 
 
 The cold water stream* 6n her fingers ?.nd feet > 
 
8 OUR :;K. 
 
 An<l splashes below, on the the street — 
 
 A sob and a shudder, tbat nobody beard, 
 
 A quiver of anguish, but never a word. 
 
 She dashes away a poor trickling tear, 
 
 " 'Tis childish to cry, although nobody's near; 
 
 And now they are pretty, and all of them look 
 
 but this monienl they came from the brook." 
 
 Sne slings on the basket, the washing is done, 
 
 She stamps on the pavement, to make the blood run, 
 Then raises her voice in the dim London street, 
 So plaintively trilling, so simple and sweet, 
 That angels might listen, and cherubim we 
 Whilst half the great city lies buried in sleep. 
 Repeating, — repeating the very same song. 
 " Fresh water-cres-e-s ! sweet w'ater-cress-e-s ! 
 Oh! pray come and buy my sweet water-cress-e-s!" 
 Oh ! ye, who have plenty, look oat and behold, 
 This brave little girl of but eight years old ! 
 
 And Nelly's poor mother is sick and alone, 
 No neighbor to visit her ; no, she had none. 
 She could not rise up from her comfortless bed, 
 But this was the prayer she constantly said, 
 "Lord, give us this day our daily bread ! 
 
 Ci W% have not a fricnei ia the warldl but Tke*, 
 .And we are as poor, as the poor can be, 
 Oh ! Father in heaven, take pity on me! 
 
 Cl I have not a warrant, or merit, or claim, 
 Except that I come in my Saviour's name, 
 And I have Thy promise to hear the same. 
 
 "I bring unto Thee my trouble and care, 
 A burden too heavy for me t<s bear; 
 I bring it to Thee, and do not despair. 
 
 "Look down in Thy mercy, and feed us to-day, 
 Thou knowest our need, and Thou knowest the way; 
 Thou knowest that I can do nothing but pray. 
 
 
IRESn WATER-CRESSES. 
 
 •• Oh ! give to my poor little Nelly success, 
 That she may find custom to-day for her cress; 
 I do not ask more, and I cannot ask less. 
 
 " And guard my poor lamb in these wilderness ways. 
 And bring her to Christ in her earliest days; 
 For ever, my Father, to live to Thy praise. 
 
 " Thy hand has supported me many a year; 
 
 Through sorrow and trouble, through danger and fear, 
 
 I've known that my Heavenly Father was near. 
 
 "I've known my dear Saviour was pleading for me, 
 A poor worthless sinner accepted by Thee ; 
 Accepted in Him who was nailed to the tree. 
 
 " Now Father, I wait for Thy mercy to move ; 
 I watch for the sign of Thy pitying love, 
 And all my dependance is settled above." 
 
 And thus she prayed on in her "desolate home, 
 And counted the hours till Nelly should come. 
 
 A gentleman sat in his low window seat, 
 And often looked out in the dim, foggy street, 
 And then looked within at his bright blazing tiro, 
 And round on his room, and its costly attire; 
 At well-cvsshioned sofa, and soft easy chair, 
 At beautiful pictures, and ornaments fair; 
 And then his eye fell on his plentiful board, 
 With many a luxury carefully stored ; 
 Then turned to the Bible khat lay on his knee— 
 ' And these precious promises too are for me ; 
 I rest in the love of my Saviour and Friend, 
 Which time will not alter, and death cannot end. 
 Oh ! what can I render, my Father, to Thee, 
 For all Thy unmerited mercies to me?" 
 
 The gentteman thought of his silver and gold, 
 And then of the destitute, hungry and cold ; 
 He thought of the friendless surrounded by 
 
10 our father's care. 
 
 Temptation without, and temptation within; 
 And then of the aged, deprived of their stay, 
 Alone and neglected, to wear life awaj ; 
 
 Of widows and orphans, uupitied, unfed, 
 
 In sin, or in suffering earning their bread. 
 
 He thought of the thousands whom poverty's frown, 
 
 With heart-aching sorrow was lowering down. 
 
 He thought, till the color rushed into his face, 
 
 And he walked to and fro with a resolute pace. 
 
 " Poor creatures !" he murmured, " and shall I sit here, 
 
 And waste on myself all this bountiful cheer ? 
 
 Was this, my dear Saviour, Thy love unto me? 
 
 And this the return that I make unto Thee? 
 
 Shall Thy needy children, in sorrow and pain, 
 
 Be looking for succor, and looking in vain?" 
 
 He walked once again to the low window seat, 
 
 And earnestly gazed in the dull, foggy street; 
 
 When sweetly and clearly there fell on his ear, 
 
 The cry of a water-cress girl, drawing near. 
 
 1 ' Fresh water-cress-e-s ! sVeet water-cress-c-s ! 
 
 Four bunches a penny, sweet water-cress-e-s ! " 
 
 How often he'd carelessly noticed that cry 
 
 Draw near to his dwelling,, and then pass it by ! 
 
 But now, as he listened, the words seemed to bear 
 
 A message for him as they rose on the air. 
 
 And still little Nelly kept singing her song, 
 
 And thought, to herself, as she trotted along— 
 
 " They're nearly all sold, I have only a few, 
 
 And I shall sell them in a minute or two." 
 
 Then smiling, she nodded her little rough head — 
 
 " If folks only work, they'll be sure to have bread, 
 
 Because the kind Father who lives in the skies. 
 
 Can see us down here, with His wonderful eyes ; 
 
 And He can see father, and mother, and me, 
 
 And knows all our troubles as sure as can be ; 
 
 And Be has made victuals for every one, 
 
 And we must go tell Him if we have got none. 
 
 1 told Him that mother was hungry and sick, 
 
 And beggod He would send me some customers quick, 
 
TRfi «00D #KN TUBMAN. II 
 
 And then in a minute they came for mj cress, 
 
 All wanted a pen'orth, and none wanted less; 
 
 And soon I'll be having some buyers for these — ■ 
 
 Four bunches a penny, sweet water-cress-e-s ! " 
 
 Again up on high she carolled her cry, 
 
 " Come, buy my sweet cresses, my sweet cresses buy V f 
 
 The gentleman stood by the low window seat, 
 
 And saw the poor child in the dull, foggy, street : 
 
 "Oh! Saviour,'' he said, " and this infant may be 
 
 A lamb of the fold, who is looking to Thee ; " 
 
 And hastily tapped with his hand on the pane, 
 
 11 All right," thought the child, as she nodded her head, 
 
 " Sure 1 am the woman that earns mother's bread." 
 
 The gentleman came down himself to the door. 
 
 A handful of bread from his table he bore. 
 
 He looked at the poor little shivering thing, 
 
 And marvelled that she had the courage to sing. 
 
 ' ' Here's bread, my poor child, for your breakfast," he said; 
 
 "And will you, kind Sir, take some cresses instead ? T} 
 
 "I'll buy your nice cress for my breakfast," said he, 
 
 11 But perished with cold I am sure you must be." 
 
 11 Yes, Sir," replied Nelly, " I'm cold, it is true, 
 
 But then I have plenty of work to do, 
 
 So I never trouble to think of the cold, 
 
 For I am just turned of my eight years old ; 
 
 My father is ill in the hospital, Sir, 
 
 My mother's in bed, and too weakly to stir." 
 
 Then lifting her basket she cheerily said — 
 
 " So I am the woman that works for the bread." 
 
 The gentleman told her to call the next day. 
 
 And gave her a sixpence on going away. 
 
 Then did little Nelly's heart sing with delight, 
 And all things about her seemed dancing in light ; 
 The discords of London were turned into song, 
 All friendly to her as she trotted along ; 
 And tuneful the clamor that rose in Cheapside, 
 As nightingale' i song in the sweet eventide. 
 
12 OtJft FATHER'S CARE. 
 
 The scents were as pleasant, for aught Nelly knew, 
 As banks of blue violets .sprinkled with dew ; 
 Her blithe little heart had the secret within, 
 That perfumed the odours, and softened the din. 
 With that silver sixpence tight grasped in her hand. 
 What luxury was it she could not command ! 
 8he looked in the shops with an undaunted eye, 
 Considering, thoughtfully what she could buy. 
 " What would mother like?" she kept saying aloud, 
 Unnoticed, unheard, by the hurrying crowd. 
 She saw in the windows line joints of cooked meat, 
 But thought, perhaps, that was too much of a treat ; 
 The coffee smelt pleasant, and eggs white as snow, 
 With rolls and fresh butter were placed in a row ; 
 But Nelly turned from them, and went on her way. 
 "I think mother wouldn't buy these things to-day, 
 I know she likes best a good cup of strong tea, 
 She'll have it this morning, as sure as can be ; 
 I'll buy her some tea, some butter and coals, 
 Here's plenty of bread, and two beautiful rolls. 
 I'm sure she was right not to murmur and grieve; 
 She said, ' Do your best, and we'll pray and believe,' 
 I will always pray, and believe for the rest, 
 And Grod knows I'm trying to do for the best" 
 
 And now let us look in that poor upper room, 
 
 And say, shall we find only sickness and gloom ? 
 
 A small fire is burning, the water is hot, 
 
 The tea is put into the little teapot, 
 
 And all things are carefully set in their place, 
 
 While tears trickle down on the poor mother's face, 
 
 As Nelly tells over, again and again, 
 
 How loud the kind gentleman tapped on the pane. 
 
 ' ' Ah ! Nelly, my blessing — the lions may roar, 
 
 And suffer from hunger ; but still evermore 
 
 That word shall stand firm of our Saviour who said, 
 
 Who trust in His promise shall surely be fed ; 
 
 We're like the poor spafrows that chirp in the caves, 
 
 Not one is forgotten, but some way receives 
 
 A crumb, or a grain, that was scattered or sown 
 
 t 
 
Vi ITArP'T MtfRNTNG. IS 
 
 l?or those who have no storehouse, cr barn gF their own. 
 
 £ hear them a-cbirpicg before it is day, 
 
 And think to myself, you shall teach me to pray, 
 
 My cupboard is empty, and starved must I be, 
 
 ^Unless <3-e£ should scatter seme crumbs down for rac.^ 1 
 
 * £ ' Well, mother, the sparrows did (teach you to pray, 
 
 For we have a beautiful breakfast to-day, 
 
 >13o we won't be sorry and fret fer the rest, i 
 
 You'll ask God te help us, and I'll do my best.*' 
 
 And so the days passed without Few cr despair, 
 
 But hard days cf 'kber and patier.ee they were ; 
 
 'The rain beat en Nelly, the rose ere the light, 
 
 <Her limbs were oft weary, her small face was white", 
 
 But like a brave woman, Bbe kept to kef post, 
 
 •And when it blew hardest ske struggled the most. 
 
 Ah ! yes, the*;- had troubles ar.d puzzles enow, 
 
 '[The candle burnt out, and the fire burnt low, -f| 
 
 And things would gel dirty, as every 0Re knows, 
 
 And Nelly was little to wash out the clethes"; 
 
 And rent-day would eeme, prd the rent must be paicl, 
 
 And they had no help but the water-cress trade. 
 
 And people wowld sometimes get into debt, 
 
 'J'hey d pay on the morrow, and then they'd forget. 
 
 And so they had r overly, hardship, and pain, 
 
 Not two or three times, but again and again. 
 
 Yet Nelly's good mother still held up her head, 
 
 *T\vas the will cf her Heave my Father, she said ; 
 
 And things would grew better, safe under His care, 
 
 If not — He would give her the patience to bear. 
 
 •She'd never mistrust that His promise stocd fast, 
 
 Tiiro' rough er thre' smooth, it would come right at last 
 
 But tidings new reached her of sorrow and fear, 
 ?3ad news for : the poor lonely mother to hear; 
 Her husband was rapidly wasting away, 
 'The doctor had said he might die any day, 
 And Nelly was sent, as the day's work could spare, 
 To see how he was*, and to comfort him there- 
 to carry him words of the tenderest love. 
 
14 our father's cake. 
 
 And beg him to fix his dependence above. 
 One morning her mother said, "Go, Nelly, deaf, 
 1 think by my feelings, the end must be near, 
 And try and remember the words we have read — 
 The ceautiful things that our Saviour has said ; 
 And don't let him fret for our troubles, dear man! 
 But cheer him, my blessing — as well as you can-.'* 
 
 SECOND TAUT. 
 
 Then Nelly 3et off to the great house alone, 
 
 'Mongst the dying and sick, as she often had done ; 
 
 And through the long ward, as tkc little girl passed, 
 
 Kind looks of compassion upon her were cast. 
 
 She stood by the bed — was her father asleep l m 
 
 His face, was so white, and his eyes were so deep : 
 
 She touched his thin hand as it lay on the sheet, 
 
 And then with her little voice steady and sweet, 
 
 Said, " Father! dear father!" and then kissed his brow, 
 
 " Mother wants very bad to- know how you are now." 
 
 He opened his eyes with a heavy-drawn sigh ; 
 
 " Ah ! Nelly, you've come to see poor father die — 
 
 Sit down on the bed, shild — sit down by me here, 
 
 'Tis hard fork t© leave you without any fear ; • 
 
 You must be starved, darling — for what can you do*? 
 
 Abe family can't be supported by you, 
 
 Tnd how did you fare yesterday in the storm* 
 
 With nothing to eat, and no fire to warm t 
 
 I thought of yon starving there, all the day long, 
 
 And knew you? poor mother would never get strong.** 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Nelly, and gat on the bed ; 
 " At present I've always earned plenty of bread. 
 Well — yesterday morniug, the time that I wake,. 
 Our window was rattling, ready to break, 
 And rain battered on it. till mother did say, 
 ' You'd better not go to the market to-day.' 
 You don't suppose, father, I listened feo that, 
 "But tied my old handkerchief eve* my hat, 
 And with mother's blessing, \ go( in the street: 
 But bard work it was then to keep my feet. 
 
 - 
 
XANY PITFtCULTIF.?. 15 
 
 Sometimes the wind drove me, I could not stand still, 
 Sometimes at a corner I turned like a mill. 
 My clothes clung about me, soaked through with -die rain, 
 JSays I, ' Nelly Hardy, you must try again " 
 vl often fell down, and I could .not go fast ; 
 But somehow I got to the market at last : 
 And there the sales-women fell pitying me, 
 And said, ' Nelly, child, what an object you be.P 
 And one said/my mother wis ' hard and unkind.' 
 •Iconic,' says T, 'Missis, t y own- mind; 
 
 My mother is ill, and can't rise from her bed, 
 3 i 1 am the woman that works for the bread.' 
 Well, then she gave me a great armful of cress, 
 -She said in her conscience, she could not do Lew. 
 Twas twice as much father, as ever I get, 
 And that came, you .see, of the wind and the wet. 
 The storm kept on blowing, the rain pelted down, 
 But people all seemed to want cress in the town ; 
 They looked from the windows, and came to fcfee dwor, 
 I'd never such luck with my cresses before. 
 And then the good gentleman tapped on the pane. 
 And thai wrv day gave me sixpence again, 
 ft know 'twas our Father, who lives in the sky, 
 That made all the people so anxious to buy. 
 "Then just as 1 came to the end of Milk Street, 
 And thinking I'd ca^y dear mother a treat. 
 A man pushed against me, and fchen he turned roimd, 
 And said. ' My poor lassie, you look almost drowned; 
 L'm off to. ray breakfast, if you come vith'me 
 My missis will give you a cup of goodoa, 
 And may-be, she'll iind you a bit of dry elothee, 
 I >r old pair of shoos just to cover your toes ; 
 •I've three little girls not much bigger than you, 
 .Amongst them they'll find up a trifle er two.' 
 And then he talked kindly as we walked along, 
 And asked to what sort of folks I \20uid belong. 
 * My good little kss,' he said, ' can that be true?' 
 : Fcr I had told hinicibo^t mother and you, 
 And how mother prayed on her bed as she lay, 
 And so we were sure of some food every day. 
 v \c said MM was right, be had tried that himself. 
 
JJ OTTB FATHER B CaTIS: 
 
 He knew 'twas the way to k9ep bnca<l on ^ie shellf 
 And then his wife dried me, and gave me some tea,. 
 And this pretty frock and these shees, father — see ! 
 And put in my oasSet some pieses of bread, 
 And slices of meat for my Mother, sfte aaid ; 
 And mother did Tike it", and thought 'twas so good, 
 And she said ' ©ar Father had seat as th« food >' 
 And I thought, and mother thought, 'twas very plain 
 They would aot have pitied me but for the rain ; 
 And s&e said,* fehafc all fchiags wese safe iu God's hasu 1 
 Because whea He promised, He gave a command ; 
 And those who believe Him, and trust in the Lord,, 
 3ind e^en &e tempest fulfilling lids word. 
 She said the old lions might roar for their prey, 
 ®r youag lions hunt through tlie forest all day, 
 And still might be hungry for want of their food,. 
 But God's people never lacked any thing good." 
 
 Then Nelly ceased talking, and stosd an tke ioor,. 
 Her father said, — "Belly, dear, tell me some more r 
 I/he tiiings that you talk about comfort my mind, 
 And make me more willing to leave you behind." 
 
 Then Nelly was pleased, she had come taere for ftia&„ 
 So dowa by hes fatjei: she willingly sat, 
 And thus she began without any adfc — 
 il Yes, father, I'M tell a nice story to you. 
 
 There was a gf^d prophet, a long time agG> 
 
 (The story is all in the Bible, you know, 
 
 We often have read it since you hiive been here-.. 
 
 At least, mother reads, and I sit hy to hear.) 
 
 There was a good prophet, a long time ago,. 
 
 Who lived amongst very bad people you know. 
 
 Who did not love God, though He Avas very good,. . 
 
 But made foolish gods out of pieces of wood ;. 
 
 And so ts-shastise them, a ad fcrrag fcnem to think,. 
 
 The wells all dried up, and they had nothing to drink g 
 
 The rain never fell down to moisten the ground, 
 
 Not even a small drop of dew could be found ; 
 
 A!id so the plants withered, the corn would not gro^ 
 
THE STORY OF ELIJAH. 17 
 
 And there was a terrible famine, you know. 
 
 The horses and cattle had nothing to eat, 
 
 And so they were famished, and dropt in the street, 
 
 And all the people were dying in crowds, 
 
 But still not a drop of rain came from the clouds 5 
 
 For they were not sorry, and did not repent) 
 
 Although they had this punishment sent. 
 
 My mother explained the story to me, 
 
 The whole is not written in one place ycu see." 
 
 " Well, darling, and what did the good prophet do ?^ 
 " Ah] that is the part 1 Una now coming to; 
 There was in the country a beautiful place, 
 Away from that naughty idolatrous race; 
 And there was a spring g( clear water that ran 
 In a deep little brook, for the use of the man ; 
 And God hid him up there, &xn\ tojd hini to 'bide, 
 And drink of the w&ter that lie had supplied.'' 
 
 « But what did he -eat, child ? How did thai befal V 
 (t Oh ! just stop a moment, and I'll tell you all, — 
 God made him a promise, that every day 
 He'd send him some food in a very strange way — 
 Mother sfiyc, "'tis net strange, for the mighty God cau 
 Make use of a bird, just as well as a man ; 
 And so he commanded some ravens to fcrfng, 
 Gi<?od food to the prophet, who lived by the spring. 
 They came vz the morning, as soon as 'twas light, 
 A&d tlieii came again with hie supper at nig'fet.; 
 They always knew w T here to find nice bread and meat. 
 And go the good prophet had plenty to eat: 
 Thev never forgot, or came lagging behind, 
 because it was always Jcept Irest in their nitsd ; 
 The prophet had only to wait and beiie^ve. 
 As mother says, only to ask and receive, 
 Because the Lord's promise will always endure, 
 That br^adshaji be given, and water be sure.'* 
 
 ■ ce Well, darling, — and did the stream always ru© fast,, 
 Or did the good prophet's brook dry -tp at last?" 
 * Xt dried un at UsWbut .then, God spoke a.nd.saj<L 
 
18 OUR FAtllER'S CARE. 
 
 I've commanded a widow to feed thee with bread. 
 
 He told him the city the widow lived at — 
 
 I think 'twas Sarepta, or something like that. 
 
 And so he set off on his journey once more, 
 
 He never had seen the poor widow before— 
 
 I don't think it says, if 'twas early or late, 
 
 But there she was", waiting just close by the gate. 
 
 He said to her, — ' Bring me some water, I pray,' — 
 
 (No doubt he was thirsty with walking all day : ) 
 
 And as she was going so ready and kind, 
 
 To bring him a cup of the best she could find, 
 
 He asked her to bring him some bread in her band, 
 
 But that brought the poor widow quite to a stand . 
 
 She said, * As thy soul lives, I have not a cake ' — 
 
 And then such a sorrowful tale she did make ; 
 
 She had but a handful of meal then to use, 
 
 And just the last drop of her oil in a cruse. 
 
 1 I've come out to gather a few sticks,' said she, 
 
 1 To cook the last meal for my poor son and me ' — 
 
 And that was the end of her little supply, 
 
 And she and her son both expected to die, 
 
 'Fear not,' said the prophet, *but do as you said,* 
 
 (And that was, to make the meal up into bread,) 
 
 For thus saith the word of the Lord unto you", 
 
 (The word of the Lord, father, always is true,) 
 
 • The meal in the barrel shall never get less, 
 
 Till there is an end of the present distress.'" 
 
 " How could that be, darling " " Oh ! that 1 don't know, 
 
 But the meal did not' waste in the parrel, you know ; 
 
 There still was a handful whenever they went; 
 
 The oil in the bottle that never was spent. 
 
 They eat every day for the whole of a year, 
 
 And -whilst others starved, they had nothing to fear,. 
 
 They never sat down to a poor empty board, . 
 
 And that came, you see, from believing the Lord." 
 
 44 Ah ! Nelly, but that was a long time ago, 
 
 We don't have such prophets in these days, you know.'* 
 
 Then Nelly sat still, she had much on her mind,. 
 $ut werds to express it weren't easy to find 
 
tiie father's charge. 19 
 
 " If I could be sure, you woulcHiavc a supply, 
 
 'Twould not be so hard for me, darling, to die. 
 
 What -will you do, child,, when the bell has been tolled, 
 
 And they've put your poor father under the mould?" 
 
 Then Nelly looked up,' — " We have not wanted yet, 
 
 And got on the best in the wind and the wet."' 
 
 44 Yes, yes, child — but then there's a long time to come, 
 
 How will your poor mother make out for a home?" 
 
 " I dare say we'll do, as we have done before, 
 
 Mother says there's no cii<l <>f the heavenly store. 
 
 She bid me* to tell you some words that God said, 
 
 I don't think I've got them exact Tn my head, 
 
 It was a sweet promise sent down from the sky, 
 
 On purpose to comfort you if you should die." 
 
 "What is it, my darling? T wish T could find 
 Myself more contented to leave you behind." 
 
 "Thy fatherless children— yes, that is the word — - 
 
 I will certainly keep them alive, saith the Lord ; 
 
 And then, says the promise as plain as can bo, 
 
 And let thy poor -widow depend upon me — 
 
 And so you may leave us contentedly here, 
 
 If God will preserve us, we're nothing to fear." . 
 
 i( That's beautiful, Nelly ! 1 soon shall be gone, 
 You'll need such a Friend in this hard world alone.'" 
 
 41 We'll not be alone, father -Jesus did sa} r , 
 
 I never will leave you, I'm with yon arway; 
 
 And, dear mother says, though the heavens may shake,, 
 
 He'll never forsake ua, He'll- never forsake." 
 
 " That's beautiful, Nelly ! "'tis balm to my mind,. 
 And now I'm contented to leave you behind, 
 My last chain is broken, and taken away, 
 And I have no wish any longer to stay — 
 Tell mother, Pin willing to leave her alone, 
 'Bnt don't let her grieve, Nelly, when I am gone ; 
 Twould kill her to go to the workhouse, I know , 
 Ok! Nelly, my darling, yow'll not lefe her go I 
 
20 OUR FATHERS CARE. 
 
 But do your best for her, and work for the bread, 
 And may the Lord keep every hair of your head." 
 
 Tie looked at her fondly, and then closed his eyes, 
 "Now tell me the poor sinner's way to the skies; 
 I've learned it, my darling — but still I would die 
 While seeing the poor sinner's way to the sky, 
 And hearing about the white robe, and the feast, 
 The city of gold, and the mansions of rest; 
 So tell me of all the sweet words that you know, 
 I'm longing to hear them, I'm listening now.** 
 
 Then Nelly Bat still, and bethought her again, 4 
 
 Of what her good mother had taught her so plain, 
 
 And kissing his ashy cold cheek as he lay,* 
 
 She went on again in her own simple way ; 
 
 Nor deemed that her dear father's laboring breath, 
 
 Would soon have a close in the silence of death. 
 
 " Tis easy for sinners to come to the Lord, 
 They've but to repent and believe in ll\a word, 
 And God, fo§^fee sake of His well-beloved Son, 
 Will pardon them all the bad things they have done. 
 And give them His Spirit, that so they may grow 
 Just like Jesus Christ, when He lived here |>elow ; 
 And they are so happy when they are forgiven, 
 For they are the sons of our Father in heaven.'* 
 
 Then Nelly tried hard to remember a text, 
 
 And wondered what words she had better say next ; 
 
 Her father looked at her as if he would say, 
 
 " Go on, Nelly dear, I shall leave you to-day." 
 
 •"Yes, father, I will," and she held his Laud faab« 
 
 Tears stood in her eyes, but her words came at last 
 
 Ci I know that some beautiful clothing is wrought, 
 A beautiful dress for poor sinners is bought, 
 And when they have nothing at all of their own, 
 They come to the Saviour, and He puts it on ; 
 *Tis white as the snow, and as bright as the day, 
 Sot even the angels are fairer than thev; 
 
2TELL7, A COMFORTER. 2tf 
 
 In this they may stand by the heaven fy throne, 
 8b welcome to God through the well-beloved Son. 
 In this they are called to a heavenly feast, 
 Prepared for all people, the greatest and least; 
 For kings tbat like I)av;-d s\i wp ot\ a throne, 
 And beggars who cry on a dunghill alone ; 
 But none may c^n-vc m r not fche king on the throne, 
 Except that fine garment be over him thrown ; 
 And poor humble people are glad of this dress, 
 3 think mother ealled & * Christ's righteousness.' " 
 
 The child paused a B&omcnt — he motioned again ; 
 
 He spoke not a word, for he could not speak then ; 
 
 A trembling Took on her father she cast, 
 
 Tears stood m he? eyes, but her words followed Asfc, 
 
 " I know that poor sinners are welcome to God, 
 
 "Whose .souls are made pure by the dear Saviour's blood ; 
 
 I know fchey -will come to the heaTenly rest r 
 
 And lay their tired heads on the dear Saviour's breast* 
 
 I know they will never be hungry again, 
 
 Nor cry with their trouble, nor suffer with pain." 
 
 His eye3 looked again — "Oh I I know they will' stand 
 With the sheep of the fold, on the Saviour's right hand ; 
 Ue'll wipe all the tear-drops away from their eyes, 
 And poor sinners will not shed tears in the skies ; 
 they'll walk in the streets with the paYement of gold',. 
 Or rest in the shade with the kn»D3 of the fold ; 
 And that not fo-r any thiag good they have done, 
 ]But all for the sake of the well-beloved Soa. 
 No candle burns there, in that happy abode, 
 The city is bright with the g^Iory of God ; 
 And musie is sounding there* all the day long, 
 Our own Little baby could join in t£e soug. 
 •And you will sing there with poor mother and me; 
 Oh ! father, how happy and joyful we'll be ! 
 For ever and ever our songs we shall raise, 
 And never be- tired &£ ' glory aad praise ;' . 
 And that not for any thing good we have done, 
 Bat all for the sake of tb.e well-beloved Soj 
 
Z'Z 0d T R FATHER J CA1W 
 
 She ceased, and her dear father opened bra eye«-r- 
 
 " Yes, that is the poor sinner's way to rlio skies; 
 I'm going there, Nellys the sins I have done, 
 Are all put away through the weM-beieored Son ; 
 That beautiful raiment is over me throws, 
 And I shall stand there by the heavenly throne; 
 My Saviour is coming, I'm catching the sound 
 Of .sweet angel music, all floating around. 
 
 I'm going there 1.1 ■■ 
 
 There was light on his brow., 
 
 Then up to the skies 
 ■ He lifted his eyes, 
 
 With a bright sweet smile 
 
 ( hi his face the while ; 
 ^ One struggling breath, 
 
 And the hand of death 
 
 Had broken the chain 
 
 Of his grief and nam.. 
 
 And the soul had tied 
 
 From the silent dead, 
 
 And free as the lark 
 
 And above the dark, 
 
 And above the cloud, 
 
 And the toiling crowd./ 
 
 Had entered the rest 
 
 Of the good and blest.: 
 
 But the hand that was grasped 
 
 And so fondly clasped, 
 
 jSfow lifeless and cold, 
 
 Had relaxed its hold, 
 
 And the orphan child 
 
 Was left in the arild. 
 
 Oh ! there was a soutd of weepitg, 
 
 Tn that lonely home, 
 And the shade of terror ereepiug, 
 
 •O'er /he days to coaie. 
 
SORBGW aXD WEEPfNG. g3 
 
 He was gone— no farewell taken,. 
 Gone, without caress ; 
 
 •And the mother was forsaken, 
 In her sore distress, 
 
 All around looked' dark and dreary 
 
 Troubled, full of care, 
 And her spirit was so weary, 
 
 Nigli^uiuo despair. 
 
 Weeping, weeping, sad and lonely, ' 
 
 On her bed she lav ; 
 For some transient hours only, 
 
 Nature had its way. 
 
 "Mother must ndi grieve," thought Nelly, 
 
 " Now we are alone; 
 -I must try and be her comfort, 
 
 Now dear father's gone." 
 
 Then Bae went and stood beside her, 
 
 In her loving way ; 
 And her simple heart soon found her 
 
 Just the words to say. 
 
 "When father heard (he promise, 
 
 The pretty toxt you sent; 
 Be said it made him happy. 
 And he could die content.'' 
 
 "What was the promise, Nelly? 
 
 I want to hear it now, — 
 But did there shine a glory, 
 
 Upon your father's brow ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, dear mother, n^ver, 
 Did I fee such a sight •, 
 
£4 tfOH IXTEER?S CMMSk 
 
 His face was beaming over, 
 All with a eauiBag ligkt. 
 
 <( And such a s;ni£e he gave nie, 
 
 As I did never see ; 
 He must have --seen tie angels, 
 
 As plain as he saw me, 
 
 * ' He looked beyond the ceiling, 
 
 High up, and far away ; * * 
 
 He said, fee saw fcis Saviour, 
 
 And heard the music play. 
 
 Ki If you had seen him smiling, 
 
 I'm sure you would not cry$ \ 
 
 He looked so happy, mother, 
 
 He did not seem to die. * 
 
 u And there was such a stillness, 
 
 So peaceful round the bed ; 
 I almost thought the angels 
 
 Were hovering round my head* 
 
 <( I laid my cheek to father's, • ' 
 
 His cheek was cold as clay ; 
 . And then, I kissed and kissed liiiss., 
 And then I came away. 
 
 • 
 
 *' And running home, so lonely, 
 
 I always seemed to hum, 
 The words that made him happy, 
 Keep sounding in my ear* 
 
 *' For now I am a« orphan, 
 
 And you're a widow too ; 
 And don't you think its certain, 
 
 We'll find that promise true ? " 
 
 .*' Yes, Nelly — yes, my blessing, 
 
 And we uyisfc trust it now ; 
 And trust that God will help us, * 
 
 Although we see not how.