Praying and Saying Prayers.
JEMIMA was a little girl,
Who many prayers would say;
But, oh! she had a wandering heart,
And, therefore, did not pray. She kneeled beside her little bed,
“Our Father,” to repeat,
The while she twisted into knots
The corner of the sheet. Her roving eyes, as there she knelt,
Were never closed at all;
She’d count the roses on the rug,
The stars upon the wall. And, “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,”
Her careless tongue would say,
When all her thoughts were of the doll
That on the pillow lay. Ah! ’twas no wonder that she grew
Ill-tempered, proud and rude;
For if a child should never pray,
How can a child be good? Dear readers, Shun Jemima’s fault,
And heed the words I say;
When you kneel down to say your prayers,
Be certain that you pray.