Our Gift

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by Teachers of the School
Street Universalist Sunday School, Boston
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Title: Our Gift
Author: Teachers of the School Street Universalist Sunday School,
Boston
Release Date: January 28, 2004 [EBook #10853]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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FROM THE LIBRARY OF
PAUL & VIRGINIA CROWLEY
OUR GIFT.
BOSTON:
ABEL TOMPKINS, NO. 38 CORNHILL.

1851.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850,
By ABEL TOMPKINS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
DEDICATION.
"We offer no words of inspired thought,
No gems from the mines of
wisdom brought,
No flowers of language to deck the page,
No
borrowed glories of Muse or Sage;
But an offering simple and pure
we bring,
And a wreath of wild roses around it fling;
Not culled
from the shades of enamelled bowers,
But watered by love's own
gentle showers.
In tones of affection we here would speak;
To
waken an echo of love we seek;
We mingle our tears for the early
dead,
To the land of spirits before us fled.
While a moral we
humbly would here entwine
With the flowers we lay on affection's
shrine,
We pray that the light of religion may dawn,
To brighten our
pathway each coming morn.
Then with love for each other OUR
GIFT we bring,
And love for the memories that round it cling,
And
trust in the hopes that are lighted here,
To burn with new brightness
each passing year.
And as Time moves on with unceasing tread,

And the flowers of youth are withered and dead,
May no sigh of
regret to the past be given,
As it peacefully fades in the light of
Heaven."
PREFACE.
"OUR GIFT" has been prepared as a token of affection for our Sunday
school Pupils, and it is hoped that it may serve a similar purpose in the
hands of other teachers. It has been said, that "_He who gives his
thought, gives a part of himself_." It was this idea that suggested the
offering we now bring. We do not claim for it especial excellence. We

are aware that its pages have not uniform merit. When we state that
they are from the pens of twenty-five different teachers, few of whom
are accustomed to write for the public eye, we offer the only apology
for the imperfections of the work, which, in our judgment, the
circumstances of the case demand. If this explanation shall not cause
the critic to throw the work aside, we would welcome him to whatever
pleasure he may find in its perusal. Of the defects which it contains, we
prefer to share jointly the responsibility; and have, therefore, omitted to
attach signatures to the several articles. The shorter paragraphs,
scattered through the work, embody ideas from several contributions
which have been excluded by its narrow limits. Such as it is, we present
it to the public generally, and especially to our pupils, as a slight token
of the ardent love we bear them, humbly praying that the moral lessons
it contains may find a place in their hearts, and contribute to the
formation of such a character as involves within itself the highest form
of blessing.
TEACHERS OF THE SCHOOL STREET UNIVERSALIST
SUNDAY SCHOOL, BOSTON.
CONTENTS.
Dedication
Preface
Remember me
Honor thy Parents

Uncharitable Judgment
Boys become Men
To the Portrait of Father
Ballou
Susan's Repentance and Appeal to her Elder Sister
Little
Emma
The Old Sabbath Schoolroom
The Hunter, and his Dog
Jowler--A Fable
Take Care of your Books
My Niece
Teachers'
Library
Scholars' Library
Agatha
Responsibility
Duty of
Parents
A Scholar's Remembrance of the Pic-Nic of 1850
Rain
Drops
Obey the Rules
The Ways of Providence
To Alberta
The
Discontented Squirrel--A Fable
School Street Society
The Example
of the Bee
The Morning Walk
True Satisfaction
Female
Education
One Family
Summer Thoughts--A Fable
A Talk with
the Children
Uncle Jimmy
The Child's Dream of Heaven
The
Influence of Sabbath Schools
Memory
Selfishness

Trouble

Revenge
A Biographical Sketch
The Sabbath School Boys
Fear

of Death
Ill Temper
Reading
A Sabbath School Excursion

Christ and Duty
OUR GIFT.
"REMEMBER ME."
"Remember me!" How swift the tide
Of memory glideth o'er the past;

Those sunny hours so quickly sped,
Perchance a few with clouds
o'ercast.
But memory hath more lasting flowers,
Which Time's rude
hand can ne'er efface,
The sweets we cull from friendship's bowers,

The gems affection's altar grace.
"Remember me!" In youth's bright morn
Those simple words so
lightly spoken,
Far into future years may reach,
And wake a spell
which ne'er is broken.
A star to gleam in Memory's sky,
A line on
Memory's page to glow,
A smile to offer at her shrine,
Or tears
which from her springs shall flow.
"Remember me!" As one by one
The cherished ties of earth are torn,

The