The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 168 : You pray that your "trespa.s.ses may be forgiven, As you forgive those that are d

You pray that your "trespa.s.ses may be forgiven, As you forgive those that are done unto you;"

Before this you say to the G.o.d that's in heaven, Consider the words which you speak. Are they true?

If any one has in the past time offended Us angry creatures who soon take offence, These words in the prayer are surely intended To soften our minds, and expel wrath from thence.

We pray that "temptations may never a.s.sail us,"

And "deliverance beg from all evil" we find; But we never can hope that our pray'r will avail us, If we strive not to banish ill thoughts from our mind.

"For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, For ever and ever," these t.i.tles are meant To express G.o.d's dominion and majesty o'er ye: And "Amen" to the sense of the whole gives a.s.sent.

"SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN, AND FORBID THEM NOT, TO COME UNTO ME"

To Jesus our Saviour some parents presented Their children--what fears and what hopes they must feel!

When this the disciples would fain have prevented, Our Saviour reprov'd their unseas'nable zeal.

Not only free leave to come to him was given, But "Of such" were the blessed words Christ our Lord spake, "Of such is composed the kingdom of heaven:"

The disciples, abashed, perceiv'd their mistake.

With joy then the parents their children brought nigher, And earnestly begg'd that his hands he would lay On their heads; and they made a pet.i.tion still higher, That he for a blessing upon them would pray.

O happy young children, thus brought to adore him, To kneel at his feet, and look up in his face; No doubt now in heaven they still are before him, Children still of his love, and enjoying his grace.

For being so blest as to come to our Saviour, How deep in their innocent hearts it must sink!

'Twas a visit divine; a most holy behaviour Must flow from that spring of which then they did drink.

THE MAGPYE'S NEST OR A LESSON OF DOCILITY

A FABLE

When the arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis exprest, A wise Magpye constructed that rare Little house for young birds, call'd a nest.

This was talk'd of the whole country round, You might hear it on every bough sung, "Now no longer upon the rough ground Will fond mothers brood over their young.

"For the Magpye with exquisite skill Has invented a moss-cover'd cell, Within which a whole family will In the utmost security dwell."

To her mate did each female bird say, "Let us fly to the Magpye, my dear; If she will but teach us the way, A nest we will build us up here.

"It's a thing that's close arch'd over head, With a hole made to creep out and in; We, my bird, might make just such a bed, If we only knew how to begin."

To the Magpye soon every bird went, And in modest terms made their request, That she would be pleas'd to consent To teach them to build up a nest.

She replied, "I will shew you the way, So observe every thing that I do.

First two sticks cross each other I lay--"

"To be sure," said the Crow; "why, I knew,

"It must be begun with two sticks, And I thought that they crossed should be."

Said the Pye, "Then some straw and moss mix, In the way you now see done by me."

"O yes, certainly," said the Jack Daw, "That must follow of course, I have thought; Though I never before building saw, I guess'd that without being taught."

"More moss, straw, and feathers, I place, In this manner," continued the Pye.

"Yes, no doubt, Madam, that is the case; Though no builder myself, even I,"

Said the Starling, "conjectur'd 'twas so; It must of necessity follow: For more moss, straw, and feathers, I know, It requires, to be soft, round, and hollow."

Whatever she taught them beside, In his turn every bird of them said, Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, He had just such a thought in his head.

Still the Pye went on shewing her art, Till a nest she had built up half way; She no more of her skill would impart, But in anger went flutt'ring away.

And this speech in their hearing she made, As she perched o'er their heads on a tree, "If ye all were well skill'd in my trade, Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"--

When a scholar is willing to learn, He with silent submission should hear.

Too late they their folly discern; The effect to this day does appear:

For whenever a Pye's nest you see, Her charming warm canopy view, All birds' nests but hers seem to be A Magpye's nest just cut in two.

THE BOY AND THE SKY-LARK

A FABLE

"A wicked action fear to do, When you are by yourselves; for though You think you can conceal it, A little bird that's in the air The hidden trespa.s.s shall declare, And openly reveal it."

Richard this saying oft had heard, Until the sight of any bird Would set his heart a quaking; He saw a host of winged spies For ever o'er him in the skies, Note of his actions taking.

This pious precept, while it stood In his remembrance, kept him good When n.o.body was by him; For though no human eye was near, Yet Richard still did wisely fear The little bird should spy him.

But best resolves will sometimes sleep; Poor frailty will not always keep From that which is forbidden; And Richard one day, left alone, Laid hands on something not his own, And hop'd the theft was hidden.

His conscience slept a day or two, As it is very apt to do When we with pain suppress it; And though at times a slight remorse Would raise a pang, it had not force To make him yet confess it.

When on a day, as he abroad Walk'd by his mother, in their road He heard a sky-lark singing; Smit with the sound, a flood of tears Proclaim'd the superst.i.tious fears His inmost bosom wringing.

His mother, wond'ring, saw him cry, And fondly ask'd the reason why; Then Richard made confession, And said, he fear'd the little bird He singing in the air had heard Was telling his transgression.

The words which Richard spoke below, As sounds by nature upwards go, Were to the sky-lark carried; The airy traveller with surprise To hear his sayings, in the skies On his mid journey tarried.

His anger then the bird exprest: "Sure, since the day I left the nest, I ne'er heard folly utter'd So fit to move a sky-lark's mirth, As what this little son of earth Hath in his grossness mutter'd.

"Dull fool! to think we sons of air On man's low actions waste a care, His virtues or his vices; Or soaring on the summer gales, That we should stoop to carry tales Of him or his devices!

"Our songs are all of the delights We find in our wild airy flights, And heavenly exaltation; The earth you mortals have at heart Is all too gross to have a part In sky-lark's conversation.

"Unless it be in what green field Or meadow we our nest may build, Midst flowering broom, or heather; From whence our new-fledg'd offspring may With least obstruction wing their way Up to the walks of ether.

"Mistaken fool! man needs not us His secret merits to discuss, Or spy out his transgression; When once he feels his conscience stirr'd, That voice within him is the _bird_ That moves him to confession."