The Peep of Day
By the Author of
“Line Upon Line,” “Precept Upon
Precept,” Etc.
PREFACE.
This little work aims to be the very least of all;—not in size, but in the humility of its contents. It aims at the superlative degree of littleness; and in this point seeks to resemble the least watch ever made—the least picture ever painted—the tiniest flower that ever grew. It desires to be among books as the humming-bird among birds.
As soon as a child’s mind is capable of receiving systematic instruction, this humble work attempts to convey it.
From a very early period a pious mother will, by casual remarks, endeavor to lead her child to the knowledge of his Creator and Redeemer; and in due time she will impart systematic instruction. It may be at three years of age—it may not be till five—that the child is prepared to listen to these little lessons. But—sooner or later—he will give evidence of his immortality by willingly hearkening to discourse concerning the Invisible—the Eternal—the Infinite.
The simplicity of the language may seem unworthy of the sublimity of the subject treated of in these pages; and some may smile at the contrast;—but the little one will not smile—except with joy to hear of his Heavenly Father, and of his Incarnate Redeemer; for the merry inmates of the nursery are capable of tasting higher pleasures than toys and dainties can afford.
THE PEEP OF DAY.
Dear Children:—You have seen the sun in the sky. Who put the sun in the sky?—God.
Can you reach up so high?—No.
Who holds up the sun that it does not fall?—It is God. God lives in heaven; heaven is much higher than the sun.
Can you see God?—No. Yet He can see you, for God sees everything.
God made everything at first, and God takes care of everything. God made you, my little child, and God takes care of you always.
You have a little body; from your head down to your feet, I call your body.
Put your hand before your mouth. What do you feel coming out of your mouth? It is your breath. You breathe every moment. When you are asleep, you breathe. You cannot help breathing. But who gives you breath? God does everything. God gave you this little body, and he makes it live, and move, and breathe. There are bones in your body. God has made them strong and hard. There are some bones for your arms, and some bones for your legs. There is a bone for your back, and more bones for you sides.
God has covered your bones with flesh. Your flesh is soft and warm. In your flesh there is blood. God has put skin outside, and it covers your flesh and blood like a coat. Now all these things, the bones, and flesh, and blood, and skin, are called your body. How kind of God it was to give you a body. I hope that your body will not get hurt.
Will your bones break?—Yes, they would, if you were to fall down from a high place, or if a cart were to go over them.
If you were to be very sick, your flesh would waste away, and you would have scarcely anything left but skin and bones.
Did you ever see a child who had been sick a very long while? I have seen a sick baby. It had not round cheeks like yours, and a fat arm like this. The baby’s flesh was almost gone, and its little bones were only covered with skin. God has kept you strong and well.
How easy it would be to hurt your poor little body!
If it were to fall into the fire, it would be burned up. If hot water were thrown upon it, it would be scalded. If it were to fall into deep water, and not be taken out very soon, it would be drowned. If a great knife were run through your body, the blood would come out. If a great box were to fall on your head, your head would be crushed. If you were to fall out of the window, your neck would be broken. If you were not to eat some food for a few days, your little body would be very sick, your breath would stop, and you would grow cold, and you would soon be dead.
You see that you have a very weak little body.
Can you keep your own body from being sick, and from getting hurt?
You should try not to hurt yourself, but God only can keep your body from all harm, from fire and water, from wounds and bruises, and all kinds of sickness. Kneel down and say to God, “Pray keep my poor little body from getting hurt.” God will hear you, and go on taking care of you.
My little body’s made by God
Of soft warm flesh and crimson blood:
The slender bones are placed within,
And over all is laid the skin.
My little body’s very weak;
A fall or blow my bones might break:
The water soon might stop my breath;
The fire might close my eyes in death.
But God can keep me by his care;
To him I’ll say this little pray’r:
“O God! from harm my body keep,
Both when I wake and when I sleep.”
I have told you about your little body. Was your body always as big as it is now?—No. Once it was very small indeed.
What were you called when your body was very small?—A baby.
Now you can take a little care of yourself, but then you could take no care at all. Can babies walk, or talk, or feed themselves, or dress themselves?—No.
But God sent you a person who took great care of you when you were a baby.
Who was it?—Your dear mother; she took care of you then. She nursed you in her arms, and fed you, and took you out in the air, and washed you, and dressed you. Do you love your mother?—Yes.
I know you do. But who gave you a 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, crying. There was a dead baby in the box. Was the soul of the baby in the box?—No; its soul was gone up to God.
Will you not thank God for giving you a spirit? Will you not ask Him to take your spirit to live with him when your body dies?
Say to God, “Pray, take my spirit to live with Thee when my body dies and turns into dust.”
CHILD.
Tell me, mamma, if I must die
One day, as little baby died;
And look so very pale, and lie
Down in the pit-hole by his side?
Shall I leave dear papa and you,
And never see you any more?
Tell me, mamma, if this is true:
I did not know it was before.
MAMMA.
’Tis true, my love, that you must die;
The God who made you says you must;
And every one of us shall lie,
Like the dear baby in the dust.
These hands, and feet, and busy head,
Shall waste and crumble quite away;
But though your body shall be dead,
There is a part which can’t decay.
What is that part which can’t decay? It is your soul.
Your body will decay; it will turn into dust; but your soul will live forever: it will never decay.