WHATEVER brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home;
Where fifters dwell and brothers meet,
Quarrels should never come.

Birds in their little nests agree;
And 'tis a shameful fight,
When children of one tamily

Fall out, and chide, and fight!

Hard names at first, and threat'ning words,
That are but noify breath,
May grow to clubs and naked swords,

To murder and to death.

The devil tempts one mother's fon
To rage against another;
So wicked Cain was hurried on
Till he had kill'd his brother.

The wife will make their anger cool,
At least before 'tis night;
But in the bofom of a fool

It burns till morning-light.
Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,
Our little brawls remove;
That, as we grow to riper age,
Our hearts may all be love.

71. Against Scoffing and calling Names.

WATTS.

OUR tongues were made to bless the Lord,
And not fpcak ill of men;
When others give a railing word,
We must not rail again.

Cross words and angry names require
To be chaftis'd at fchool;
And he's in danger of hell-fire
That calls his brother Fool.
But lips that dare be fo profane,
To mock and jeer and scoff
At holy things or holy men,
The Lord shall cut them off.

When children in their wanton play
Serv'd eld Elifha fo;
And bid the prophet go his way,
"Go up, thou bald-head, go!"

God quickly stopp'd their wicked breath,

And fent two raging bears,

That tore them land from limb to death,
With blood, and groans, and tears.

Great God, how terrible art thou

To finners e'er to young!

Grant me thy grace, and teach me how
To tame and rule my tongue !

And yet how wicked children dare
Abuse thy dreadful glorious name!
And, when they 're angry, how they swear,
And curse their fellows, and blafpheme!

How will they stand before thy face,
Who treated thee with fuch difdain,
While thou shalt doom them to the place

Of everlafting fire and pain !

Then never fhall one cooling drop
To quench their burning tongues be given;
But I will praise thee here, and hope
Thus to employ my tongue in heaven.

My heart shall be in pain to hear
Wretches affront the Lord above;
'Tis that great God whose pow'r I fear,
That heav'nly Father whom I love.

If my companións grow profane,
I'll leave their friendship when I hear
Young finners take thy name in vain,
And learn to curse, and learn to fwear.

§73. Against Idleness and Mischief. WATTS.
HOW doth the little bufy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From ev'ry op'ning flow'r!
How skilfully the builds her cell !
How neat the fpreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the fiweet food she makes.

In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be bufy too;

For Satan finds fome mischief till
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,

Let my first years be paft, That I may give for ev'ry day Some good account at last.

§ 74. Against Evil Company. WATTS,

WHY should I join with those in play
In whom I've no delight;
Who curfe and swear, but never pray;
Who call ill names, and fight?

I hate to hear a wanton fong,

Their words offend mine ears;
I should not dare defile my tongue
With language fuch as theirs.

Away from fools I 'll turn mine eyes,
Nor with the scoffers go:

God's Name in vain. WATTS.

ANGELS, that high in glory dwell,
Adore thy name, Almighty God!

And devils tremble, down in hell,
Beneath the terrors of thy rod,

That wifer I may grow.

From one rude boy that's us'd to mock,

They learn the wicked jeft: One fickly sheep infects the flock, And poifons all the rest.

My My God, I hate to walk or dwell With finful children here:

Then let me not be fent to hell, Where none but finners are.

§75. Against Pride in Clothes. WATTS. WHY should our garments, made to hide

Our parents' shame, provoke our pride ?

The art of dress did ne'er begin
Till Eve, our mother, learnt to fin.
When first she put the cov'ring on,
Her robe of innocence was gone;
And yet her children vainly boaft
In the fad marks of glory loft.

How proud we are! how fond to shew
Our clothes, and call them rich and new!
When the poor fheep and filkworm wore
That very clothing long before.
The tulip and the butterfly
Appear in gayer coats than I:
Let me be drest fine as I will,
Flies, worms, and flow'rs, exceed me still.

Then will I fet my heart to find
Inward adornings of the mind;
Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace:
These are the robes of richest dress.

No more thall worms with me compare;
This is the raiment angels wear;
The Son of God, when here below,
Put on this blest apparel too.

It never fades, it ne'er grows old;
Nor fears the rain, nor moth, nor mould:
It takes no spot, but still retines;
The more 'tis worn, the more it shines.
In this on earth should I appear,
Then go to heav'n and wear it there,
God will approve it in his sight;
'Tis his own work, and his delight.

§ 76.

Obedience to Parents. WATTS.

I ET children that would fear the Lord
Hear what their teachers say;
With rev'rence meet their parents' word,
And with delight obey.

Have you not heard what dreadful plagues
Are threaten'd by the Lord,
To him that breaks his father's law,
Or mocks his mother's word?

What heavy guilt upon him lies!
How cursed is his name!

The ravens shall pick out his eyes,
And eagles eat the fame.

But those who worship God, and give
Their parents honour due,
Here on this earth they long shall live,
And live hereafter too.

What do I read my Bible for,
But, Lord, to learn thy will?
And shall I daily know thee more,

And lefs obey thee ftill?

How fenfeless is my heart, and wild !
How vain are all my thoughts!

Pity the weakness of a child,
And pardon all my faults.

Make me thy heav'nly voice to hear,
And let me love to pray;
Since God will lend a gracious ear
To what a child can fay.

§ 78. A Morning and Evening Song. WATTS Morning Song.

MY God, who makes the fun to know
His proper hour to rife,
And to give light to all below,

Doth fend him round the skies.
When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor ftops to reft,
But round the world he shines.

So, like the fun, would I fulfil
The bus'nefs of the day:
Begin my work, betimes, and still
March on my heav'nly way.
Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my foul complain
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain !

Evening Song.

AND now another day is gone,
I'll fing my Maker's praife:
My comforts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.

But how my childhood runs to waste
My fins, how great their fum !
Lord, give me pardon for the paft,
And strength for days to come.

I lay my body down to fleep;
Let angels guard my head,
And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.
With cheerful heart I close my eyes,
Since thou wilt not remove;
And in the morning let me rife,
Rejoicing in thy love.

Without our regard or concern: Yet as wife as we are, if we went to their school, There's many a fluggard, and many a fool, Some leffons of wisdom might learn.

They don't wear their time out in fleeping or play, But gather up corn in a fun-fhiny day,

And for winter they lay up their stores: They manage their work in fuch regular forms, One would think they forefaw all the frofts and

the storms,

And fo brought their food within doors. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant, If I take not due care for the things I shall want, Nor provide against dangers in time. When death or old age shall stare in my face, What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days, If I trifle away all their prime!

Now, now, while my strength and my youth are [thall come, in bloom,

Let me think what will ferve me when fickness
And pray that my fins be forgiven :
Let me read in good books, and believe and obey,
That, when death turns me out of this cottage of
I may dwell in a palace in heaven.
[clay,

§$6. Good Refolutions. WATTS. THOUGH I am now in younger days, Nor can tell what thall befal me, I'll prepare for ev'ry place Where my growing age shall call me. Should I e'er be rich or great, Others shall partake my goodness; I'll fupply the poor with meat, Never shewing scorn or rudeness. Where I fee the blind or lame,

Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them; I deserve to feel the fame,

If I meck, or hurt, or cheat them.
If I meet with railing tongues,
Why should I return them railing?
Since I best revenge my wrongs
By my patience never failing.
When I hear them telling lies,
Talking foolish, curfing, swearing;
First I'll try to make them wife,
Or I'll foon go out of hearing.
What though I be low and mean,
I'll engage the rich to love me,
While I 'm modeft, neat, and clean,
And submit when they reprove me.
If I should be poor and fick,

I shall meet, I hope, with pity;
Since I love to help the weak,
Though they 're neither fair nor witty.

I'll not willingly offend,
Nor be easily offended;
What's amiss I'll strive to mend,

And endure what can't be mended.

§ 87. A Summer Evening. WATTS.

HOW fine has the day been, how bright was
the fun,
How lovely and joyful the course that he run,
Though he rofe in a mift when his race he begun,

And there follow'd fome droppings of rain! But now the fair traveller 's come to the weft, His rays all are gold, and his beauties are beft; He paints the iky gay as he finks to his reft,

And foretels a bright rifing again. Just such is the Christian: his course he begins Like the fun in a mitt, when he mourns for his fins, And melts intotcars; then he breaks out and shines, And travels his heavenly way: But, when he comes nearer to finish his race, Like a fine fetting fun, he looks richer in grace, And gives a fure hope at the end of his days Of rifing in brighter array !

§ 88. A Cradle Hymn. WATTS.
HUSH! my dear, lie still and flumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heav'nly bleffings, without number,
Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe! thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well fupplied.
How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be;
When from heaven he defcended,
And became a child like theet

Soft and easy is thy cradle,
Courfe and hard thy Saviour lay;
When his birth-place was a stable,
And his fofteft bed was hay.
Bleffed babe! what glorious features
Spotlefs fair, divinely bright!
Must he dwell with brutal creatures ?
How could angels bear the fight?

Was there nothing but a manger
Curfed finners could afford,
To receive the heav'nly stranger?
Did they thus affront their Lord?
Soft, my child! I did not chide thee,
Though my fong might found too hard :
*mother
'Tis thy
fits beside thee,
nurfe that
And her arms shall be thy guard.

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