98
Poems.
No mortal can
God's great works scan,
But what will own His power;
'T was He gave birth
To all on earth,
And He ordains each hour,
God's great works scan,
But what will own His power;
'T was He gave birth
To all on earth,
And He ordains each hour,
THE LAST REQUEST.
Oh, mother dear, said little James,
May I a fishing go?
The sun shines bright, the air is clear,
The winds do scarcely blow.
May I a fishing go?
The sun shines bright, the air is clear,
The winds do scarcely blow.
I've got a little hook and line,
Some angle-worms for bait;
And there 's my basket for the fish,
All ready, by the gate.
Some angle-worms for bait;
And there 's my basket for the fish,
All ready, by the gate.
And if you will but give consent,
I ne'er again will tease;
I do wish very much to go,
Dear Mother, if you please.
I ne'er again will tease;
I do wish very much to go,
Dear Mother, if you please.
