The new national reading books

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Page 59 - I'll tell thee. He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb : He is meek and he is mild, He became a little child. I a child and thou a lamb, We are called by his name. Little lamb, God bless thee, Little lamb, God bless thee.
Page 7 - I like little Pussy, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But Pussy and I Very gently will play...
Page 111 - Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky.
Page 45 - THE days are cold, the nights are long, The north- wind sings a doleful song; Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things are now at rest, Save thee, my pretty Love! The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, The crickets long have ceased their mirth; There's nothing stirring in the house Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse, Then why so busy thou? Nay! start not at that sparkling light; 'Tis but the moon that shines so bright On the...
Page 111 - Grant to little children Visions bright of Thee; Guard the sailors tossing On the deep blue sea.
Page 11 - Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sip it up. Make the most of life you may ; Life is short, and wears away. " Both alike are mine and thine, Hastening quick to their decline ; Thine's a summer, mine no more, Though repeated to threescore ; Threescore summers, when they're gone, Will appear as short as one.
Page 45 - The north-wind sings a doleful song ; Then hush again upon my breast ; All merry things are now at rest, Save thee, my pretty Love ! The kitten sleeps upon the hearth ; The crickets long have ceased their mirth ; There's nothing stirring in the house Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse. Then why so busy thou ? Nay...
Page 22 - They won't let me walk, And they won't let me play, And they won't let me go Out of doors at all to-day. They put away my playthings Because I broke them all, And then they locked up all my bricks, And took away my ball.
Page 63 - Who showed the little ant the way Her narrow hole to bore, And spend the pleasant summer day, In laying up her store ? The sparrow builds her clever nest, Of wool, and hay, and moss : Who told her how to weave it best, And lay the twigs across...
Page 59 - Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Little lamb, I'll tell thee; Little lamb, I'll tell thee. He is called by thy name, For He calls himself a Lamb...

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