. Canciones en casa para la gente pequeña. T su corazón está apestado y él notheake. CANCIONES DE CASA. 275 Oh madre, entonces, ¿por qué te ves tan pálida? ¿Dios no ama a todas las buenas personas?IRJ la tormenta más salvaje que necesitamos no codorniz Si las olas eran demasiado altas como el campanario. Tienes razón, hija Mía, y no lloraré, pero la fe era débil y el lago es profundo. Oh, madre, ¿qué sonido era ese sonido? ¡el cuerno de mi padre soplando! Y ellos corrían y cantaban alegremente, sus brazos alrededor de él arrojando, aunque la tormenta debería aullarse y la caída de luz, hay una mano de los padres que guía a todos. SIN LOS NIÑOS. OH,

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. Home songs for little people . t his heart is stout and he will notquake. HOME SONGS. 275 O mother, then why do you look so pale ? Does not God love all good people ?Irj the wildest storm we need not quail If the waves were ao high as the steeple. You are right, my child, and I will not weep,But faith was weak and the lake is deep. O mother, what sound was that that rung? Tis the horn of my father blowing!And out they ran and joyfully sung,Their arms around him throwing, Though the storm should howl and the light-ning fall, Theres a Fathers hand that guides themall. WITHOUT THE CHILDREN. OH, the weary, solemn silence Of the house without the children! Oh the strange, oppressive stillness Where the children come no moreAh ! the longing of the sleepersFor the soft arms of the children;Ah! the longing for the faces Peeping through the opening door-Faces gone for evermore! 276 HOME SONGS. Strange it is to wake at midnightAnd not hear the children breathing,Nothing but the old clock ticking,Ticking, ticking by the door.. Strange to see the little dressesHanging up there all the morning;And the gaiters—ah! their patter,We shall hear it never moreOn our child-forsaken floor! HOME SONGS. 277 What is home without the children ?T is the earth without its verdure,And the sky without its sunshine;Life is withered to the core! So we 11 leave this dreary desert, ti And we 11 follow ihe Good ShepherdTo the greener pastures vernal, Where the lambs have gone before,With the Shepherd evermore. HAVENT you scan the sun on high,Climbing through a cloudy sky,Melt away the mists beside him,And when clouds have tried to hide him,Sweep them from the sky? And some folks below the skyKeep bright sunshine in their eye;And when trifling troubles meet them,Let good humor fight and beat tliem-Sweep them from their eye. But some folks who love to fret,Never were contented yet;All the worlds to them a prison;Every little cloud thats risen •/ Keeps them on the fret. 24 278 HOME SONGS.