It is so difficult to obtain really good selections to be recited at Sunday-school anniversaries and similar occasions, that those here presented will be much appreciated. They have the merit of containing good sentiments and are therefore appropriate. The best lessons for young and old are often conveyed in simple language.
LITTLE SERVANTS.
WILLIE AND THE BIRDS.
A CHILD’S PRAYER.
GOD LOVES ME.
THE UNFINISHED PRAYER.
This beautiful poem is admirably adapted for a church entertainment when spoken by a little girl.
DEEDS OF KINDNESS.
A LOT OF DON’TS.
I believe, if there is one word that grown-up folks are more fond of using to us little folks, than any other word in the big dictionary, it is the word D-o-n-t.
It is all the time “Don’t do this,” and “Don’t do that,” and “Don’t do the other,” until I am sometimes afraid there will be nothing left that we can do.
Why, for years and years and years, ever since I was a tiny little tot, this word “Don’t” has been my torment. It’s “Lizzie, don’t make a noise, you disturb me,” and “Lizzie, don’t eat so much candy, it will make you sick,” and “Lizzie, don’t be so idle,” and “Don’t talk so much,” and “Don’t soil your clothes,” and “Don’t” everything else. One day I thought I’d count how many times I was told not to do things! Just think! I counted twenty-three “don’ts,” and I think I missed two or three little ones besides.
But now it is my turn. I have got a chance to talk, and I’m going to tell some of the big people when to Don’t! That is what my piece is about. First, I shall tell the papas and mammas—Don’t scold the children, just because you have been at a party the night before, and so feel cross and tired. Second, Don’t fret and make wrinkles in your faces over things that cannot be helped. I think fretting spoils big folks just as much as it does us little people. Third, Don’t forget where you put your scissors, and then say you s’pose the children have taken them. Oh! I could tell you ever so many “don’ts,” but I think I’ll only say one more, and that is—Don’t think I mean to be saucy, because all these don’ts are in my piece, and I had to say them.
E. C. Rook.
LITTLE WILLIE AND THE APPLE.
THE CHILD’S PRAYER.
“MAYN’T I BE A BOY?”
GIVE YOUR BEST.
THE BIRDS.
For six children and an older scholar, who takes the part of teacher, and recites the “Response.” Stand in a row and step forward as you recite your lines.
“COME UNTO ME.”
THERE IS A TEETOTALER.
This piece should be spoken by a spirited boy, and as he goes upon the stage, some one should cry out, “There’s a teetotaler!”
Yes, sir, here is a teetotaler, from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. I’ve got on teetotal boots, too, that never will walk in the way of a drunkard. The other day a man asked me about our White Ribbon Army. He wanted to know what use there is in making so many promises. I told him the use was in keeping the promises more than in making them.
The boys which belong to our Army have something to do besides loafing at the corners of the streets, and smoking the stumps of cigars they pick out of the gutters. It makes me sick to think of it!
Some boys are dreadfully afraid of losing their liberty, so they won’t sign our pledge. I saw four or five of them the other day. They had been off, somewhere, having what they call a jolly time; and they were so drunk they couldn’t walk straight. They lifted their feet higher than a sober boy would to go upstairs, and I watched them till one fell down and bumped his nose.
Thinks I to myself, there’s liberty for you, but it’s just such liberty as I don’t want. I would rather walk straight than crooked, I would rather stand up than fall down, and I would rather go to a party with my sisters, and some other pretty girls, than hide away with a lot of rough fellows, to guzzle beer and whisky.
There are plenty of other reasons why I am a teetotaler. When I grow up, I would rather be a man than a walking wine-cask or rum-barrel; I would rather live in a good house than a poor one, and I would rather be loved and respected than despised and hated.
Now, if these are not reasons enough for being a teetotaler, I will give you some more the next time we meet.
AN APPEAL FOR BENEFICENCE.
For a small boy.
The boy that spoke first to-night said you were all welcome. I shan’t take it back. You are welcome. You’re welcome to see and hear; but you’re just twice as welcome to give. We love to look at you, and we’re willing you should look at us. We’re glad to have you hear us; but we want to hear you. You haven’t any speeches ready? All right! We don’t want to hear those. We can make those ourselves—as you’ve seen.
What we do want to hear is the rustling of Greenbacks and the clinking of Silver, as the ushers pass the boxes round. That’s a kind of music that we appreciate, for it gets us our library-books, our papers, our banners, and everything else that a Sunday-School needs; and then it’s a kind of music that we can’t make ourselves, and everybody prizes what he can’t do himself. We do our best now. This school has given — dollars for benevolent objects, during the past year. Isn’t such a school worth helping? We mean to do better by-and-by, when we get hold of the money-bags. Just now, you must do the giving.
ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO A NEW PASTOR.
To be spoken by a small girl.
Dear Pastor:—The old folks have asked you to come and be their pastor, and we children want to know if you won’t come and be ours too. I am sure little folks need a pastor just as much as big ones do. I think they do more, because big folks ought to be able to take care of themselves.
We think the Sunday-school belongs especially to us, as we are allowed to say more there than we are in church, so we would like you to come into the Sunday-school and work with us there, and we will gladly pay you with our love and sunny smiles. (We can’t give you our pennies because they have to go across the ocean to the poor heathen.) If you could only come around through our classes every week and help us just a little by a word of good cheer, I am sure we would feel that you belonged to us and we to you.
I know pastors have an awful lot to do, and they say it is real hard work to preach, but if you could say just a little less to the old folks, and a little more to the young folks, we will help you build up the church and make it a big success. So, I hope, dear pastor, you will let us call you our own, and when you come among us you may be sure we will love you and welcome you as the children’s friend.
ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO A NEW SUPERINTENDENT.
To be spoken by a small boy.
Dear Mr. Blank:—I am sent out here to-day to tell you how glad we are that you are to be our new superintendent. I welcome you in the name of the school, and do it most heartily. Boys know a good thing when they see it—if they didn’t Farmer Jones wouldn’t have to put up sticky fly-paper on his peach trees—just to catch flies, of course. So, when we were told that you had been chosen for our new superintendent, we said “that’s all right.”
There must be an engineer to every train if it is to be run properly, at the same time a great deal depends on the train and how it is made up. Now, I believe there is good stuff in our Sunday-school. We would make a good train if guided by a good engineer. We can’t run ourselves and keep on the track, that’s sure. We are quite certain, to begin with, that we are on the right track, and we know that Mr. Blank can keep us there. To get to the end of our journey safely, though, will depend much on how well our train hangs together. This, boys and girls, is our part, and we must do our best.
We know that love will make the wheels go round and charity will bind us together, tighter than any cord. We hope our engineer will be proud of his train.
OPENING ADDRESS FOR A SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION.
I have always been told that children should be seen and not heard, but this is children’s night and we are going to be seen and heard too.
We are very glad to welcome the old folks. There are so many here their presence would lead us to think they believe boys and girls can do something after all. Their eyes are on us, and I hope, children, that you have brought your best behavior with you, because this is a good time and place to use it. Perhaps I may be allowed to suggest that you keep your eye on the old folks, just to see that they conduct themselves properly.
Boys and girls, we have a great deal to say that is worth hearing, and I hope you will speak out loud and prompt so that our audience will not miss any of the good things. We want to make this the best exhibition we have ever given, so that when our elders go home they will have a better impression of us than they ever had before.
CLOSING ADDRESS FOR A SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION.
When I found that our superintendent had put me last on the programme, I felt, as boys often do, that it would be much nicer to be first, but he said it was a good plan to keep the best wine till the last, so I feel all right about it. I know, too, that you will not question the superintendent’s good taste. I mean about me, not the wine. He wants me to say we are all very much obliged to you for coming, and we hope you have had a much bigger treat than you expected.
These exhibitions mean work for the boys and girls, as well as for the teachers, but work does everybody good, especially boys who love base-ball better than Sunday-school. I hope our efforts have been a credit to ourselves and to the Sunday-school, of which we are all so proud.
PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A PASTOR.
For a young lady.
Dear Pastor:—It is our delight at this season of gifts and good will, to present to you a slight token of the esteem in which you are held by your Sunday School. To say we all love you is to repeat what you must already know.
“Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh,” but words do not always answer our purpose. We like to put them into some tangible form, and so to-night we present you with this — which comes as an expression of our sincere love and good wishes.
We ask you to accept this, not for its intrinsic value, but as a gift from loyal scholars, who recognize and appreciate your constant and untiring efforts to minister to their needs in every way and at all times.
Do not thank us, dear Pastor. We are discharging but a mite of the indebtedness we owe you, and you will only add to that debt if you persist in returning thanks to us. You know how Church people abhor debts, and we are trying to put into practice some of your preaching. We hope the token will be a constant reminder, if that were necessary, of our unceasing interest in you and your work.
A PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A TEACHER.
Dear Teacher:—We take this occasion to acknowledge publicly our deep and sincere appreciation of the faithful service you have rendered us. It is our desire to tender you some tangible expression of the sincere feeling we have for you and to impress upon you the love and good will felt by every pupil.
I, therefore, present you this — asking you to associate it forever with the names and faces of the donors. Through your kind and prayerful aid many of us have been led into the way of truth, and will, therefore, gratefully remember you as long as we live.
A PRESENTATION ADDRESS TO A SUPERINTENDENT.
For a young man.
Mr. Superintendent:—We are going to make you a present to-night, and I for one think you deserve it.
Our School has the reputation of being a live one, and it is a good deal because there is a live man at the head of it. In the past year that you have been with us, your patience must have been sorely tried, for while most of the children are naturally good, some are naturally unruly. The young men and young women from whom we expect the best conduct are often, strange to say, more attentive to each other than to their lessons. But having been first a boy yourself, and perhaps later a beau, you have not had the heart to be too severe on those who are still young pupils in the school of experience.
By your untiring efforts you have brought the Sunday School up to a standard of unusual excellence. For its free and vigorous life, we are largely indebted to you. As a token of that fact please accept this gift. We wish its intrinsic value were twice as great. But if it conveys, even in a slight degree, the esteem in which you are held by all our scholars, young and old, it will serve the purpose for which it was procured.
ADDRESS OF WELCOME AFTER ILLNESS.
To be spoken by a young lady.
Dear Mr. Blank:—I feel unable to fully express to you our joy at seeing you once more in your place in the Sunday School. It has been hard for us to be deprived of your presence, for you had made yourself invaluable to us, but added to the personal loss we felt at your absence was the greater sorrow that you had been called upon to pass through so much physical suffering.
But, we know that God’s hand is always leading us, and the same wise purpose that causes the shadows to fall, also makes the sun to shine, and “the darker the shadow, the brighter the sunshine.” When, for a time, it was feared that you might not be restored to us, we felt we could not have it so, but our prayers were heard, and our thanks are deep and sincere that you are again in our midst. We pray that you may long be permitted to glorify Him who is the great physician, in the work to which you are returned.
ADDRESS OF WELCOME AFTER ABSENCE.
To be spoken by a young man.
Dear Pastor:—I want to speak in behalf of the younger members of your flock and add our hearty welcome to that already voiced by our elders. We congratulate you on your safe return, and rejoice with you that change and rest have reinvigorated your physical health. As you come, bringing the fresh fruits of added experience and observation, you will find us all eager to benefit by what has enriched your store.
Welcome home, then, to all that has suffered by your absence. The Church with its manifold offices has often felt the need of your strength and wisdom. Welcome to the Sunday-school where your words of help and counsel have guided us many times, and where your presence has been most uplifting.
Welcome to the homes and hearts of the young and old alike. There is not a fireside in our midst that has not been cheered by your frequent and timely visits. In the seasons of joy and sorrow which must come to all homes alike, there has been no one to whom we could turn and be so sure of loving sympathy as yourself.
Welcome to the privileges and responsibilities of your calling and to the honor of your old title—The Pastor who loves the children. We want to give fresh assurance of our hearty co-operation in that work which you are about to resume. We have learned in your absence how much and how great is that work.
Let it be our privilege to share it with you and so prove by our deeds, the love we have for your labors.
May Hatheway.