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In Works of labour, or of skill,

I would be busy too;

For Satan finds some mischief still

For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past;
That I may give for every day

Some good account at last.

Industry will ever bring its own reward. The boy who goes to school and studiously learn his lessons, is a far happier boy than he who is lazy, and will not learn without being made.

"For Satan finds some mischief still,

For idle hands to do."

MY MOTHER.

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush'd me in her arms to rest,

And on my cheeks sweet kisses press'd?

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet lullaby;

MY MOTHER.

And sooth'd me that I should not cry?

MY MOTHER.

Who taught my infant heart to pray,
And love God's holy book and day,
And taught me wisdom's pleasant way?

MY MOTHER,

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