HI-DIDDLE, HO-DIDDLE,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  This Earth of ours, on which we live,
  Is round as it can be.
    Pray, then, what is a
    Mountain, valley, hill?
  They are but like little warts,
  And pores, on orange-peel.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,--
  Our Earth is swinging in the air,
  As you can plainly see;--  {113}    Pray, then, what keeps it
    Hanging up in space?
  The Sun, my child, attracts the Earth
  And holds it in its place.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  A lovely Moon is shining for
  This Earth of ours, you see,--
    Held in its cradle
    Ever since its birth,
  Because our globe attracted it,
  As the Sun attracts the Earth.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  What I mean by globe, child,
  You're wondering now, I see.  {114}    A globe or a ball, dear,
    Is what is round and true,
  And that is why I'm calling it,
  This Earth, a globe, to you.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  Instead of globe I might have said
  A sphere for you and me;
    For all the same, in truth,
    Are sphere and globe and ball,
  And hemi's half so half this Earth,
  A hemisphere,we call.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  'T was once supposed the Earth stood still,
  While Sun went round it, free;--
    But now we've learned it well,
    That 't is the Earth doth turn
  Upon its Axis, as it's called;
  And also round the Sun.

    Hi-diddle, ho-diddle,
    Pop-diddle-dee,
  Our Earth in turning round,
  How long may she be?
    She turns on her axis
    In a day, and a night,
  But to go around the Sun
  Takes a year for the flight.

  Now you ask, "What is the Axis?"
    With an apple I will show;
  Place your thumb upon the stem-place,
    And your finger at the blow;--
  Now we'll just suppose the apple
    Has a stem that passes through,
  And this stem would be the Axis;
    Now we'll whirl the apple, true,

  Holding fast 'twixt thumb and finger,--
    That's the way the Earth goes round
  On its Axis, as we call it,
    Though no real stem is found.   {117}  And the two ends of the Axis
    Have been called the Poles, my dear;
  Yes, the North Pole and the South Pole,
    Where 'tis very cold and drear.

  Now we'll hold a bigger apple
    At a distance, for the Sun;
  Tip the smaller one a little,
    And then slowly wheel it round
  All around the larger apple,
    And it represents the Earth
  Circling round the Sun that holds it,
    Ceaseless, in its yearly path.

  Wondrous is the strong attraction
    Of the Sun which holds in place
  All the Planets in their turnings,
    All the Stars that see his face;
  But more wondrous far the power
    That created Sun and us,
  And that gave a form and being,
    To this mighty Universe.

  "The Universe!" now you exclaim:
    "By the Universe, what do you mean?"             {118}  'Tis the Sun and the Planets, and every thing known,
    That we call by this Universe name.

  Now the "Planets," you ask,
    "What are Planets?" They're globes,
  Some larger, some smaller than Earth,--
    Which are swinging in space,
    And are all held in place,
  By the God-power that first gave them birth.

  Our earth has a North Pole,
    Where 'tis very cold;
  It also has a South Pole,
    That's just the same, we're told.
  But half-way between,
    And all the way around,
  We call it the Equator,
    And heat doth there abound.
  For there the sun shines always,
    Though it goes north or south
  Some twenty-three degrees or more,
    And sometimes causes drouth.
  The sun goes north, we call it.
    But 'tis the earth instead,
  That tips, and makes it seem the sun
    Comes higher overhead.
  And when the sun is northward
    'Tis summer here, you see;
  And when it's to the southward
    'Tis there in same degree.

  I know a little brown-eyed boy,
    His name is Harley Hart;
  And with a naughty boy or girl,
    Our Harley has no part.

  He cons his lessons o'er and o'er,
    And once he fell asleep,
  With finger marking A, B, C,
    As 'twere the place to keep.

  And then he dreamed a funny dream--
    The page jumps up to dance,
  The letters laugh, and by and by,
    Like imps they leap and prance.   {121}
  Now Harley oft had wondered whence
    The letters first had come;
  And I'm afraid he sometimes wished
    They all had staid at home,

  Instead of teasing him with quirks,
    And bothering him with names
  That seemed to help him hardly more
    In learning words than games.

  One little imp squeaked: "I am A;    You could not be a man
  Without me." Then another cried:
    "I am E" and quickly ran,

  Exclaiming: "And without us both
    You could not have a head."
  Another says: "You'd have no limbs
    If I were lost or dead."

  Then O, "You'd have no nose nor toes,
    If it were not for me;"
  "And what is more, were I not here,"
    Says U, "you could not be."   {122}
  And thus they each and all lay claim
    To parcel and to part
  Of what he was, or what should do
    With hand, or head, or heart.

  They hung a ladder 'gainst the tree,
    And clambered up and down;
  They played a thousand pranks as wild
    As any gipsey clown.

  They whispered that they came from Rome,
    And that, if rightly placed,
  They'd serve our Harley with a feast
    A king would joy to taste.

  So when he woke and knew they were
    The little mystic keys
  That open Learning's gates so wide,
    He loved his A, B, C's.

  A E I O U Y

  We are small, and we are few,
  But we're wondrous mighty, too,--
  For no word can language wear,
  Save in it we hold a share.
  One of us in May is met,--
  One is caught in every net;
  One is in the clambering vine,
  One, in Moon, must ever shine;
  One's in you,--and all so shy,
  The last is hiding in your eye.

  The name of everything we know,
  as slate, or book, or toy,
  Is called a Noun.
  All names are nouns; remember this, my boy.

  A word that means to be,
  to act, or to be acted on,
  Is called a Verb; as is,
  or eat, or sing; or he is gone.   {125}
  A word that tells the color, form, or quality of things,
  Is called an Adjective; as, bright, or round, or softest wings.

  A word that tells how things are done, as quickly, bravely, well.
  Is called an Adverb; and I'm sure you many more can tell.

  A word that's used in place of nouns, a Pronoun we may call;
  As, I for mother; you, for James; this, that, for hoop or ball

  A Preposition's placed before a noun, and serves to show
  Relation to some other word; as, Rover's in the snow.

  And then Conjunctions join two words or sentences together;
  As, man and boy, or birds will fly and winds blow o'er the heather.

  Then Interjections, Oh! and Ah! Behold! and many another,
  Express surprise, delight; dismay, far more than every other.   {126}
  And these the Parts of Speech we call; Eight parts as you may tell;
  And all the language you will know, when these you've studied well.

  A NOUN or name that means but one,
    Is called in the singular number;
  But when it stands for more than one,
    'Tis plural, child, remember.

* * * * *

  A NOUN that is the name of males,
    As ox, or horse, or father,
  Is masculine in gender, dear;
    While cow, and mare, and mother,
  And all the names of females, child,
    Are feminine, 'tis true;
  Now tell me all the names you know,
    And tell their gender, too.
  But you will find there's many a noun
    Not male, nor female either,
  As chair, and book; and such we call
    In neuter gender--neither.

  ONE little chicken, two little chickens, three little chickens, dear;
  Don't you see we add s,when more than one is here?
  And this we do with almost all the nouns that may appear.

  One little birdy, two little birdies, three little birdies soar;
  The y is changed to i-e-s for birdies two or more;
  And this, when a word shall end in y with a consonant before.

  One little donkey, two little donkeys, three little donkeys bray.
  But here the y remains unchanged, and s is called in play;
  And this, when a word shall end in y,where a vowel leads the way.

  A, E, I, O, U,
    The vowels we may call;
  W, Y, are vowels too,
    Whene'er they chance to fall
  To the end of syllable or word.
    And this we well may know
  That all the rest are consonants;
    Just nineteen in a row.

  K, P, and T are called the mutes,
    Because they interrupt
  All voice or sound; while B and D
    Can only intercept;
  Hence these are partial mutes, my child;
    And H is aspirate;
  And th, too, in think and throne,
    But vocal in this, that.   {129}
  Then lip-letters, or labials,
     And dentals, or tooth letters,
  With palatals and sibilants    Seem wondrously like fetters.
  But, ah! instead of prisoning,
    They open wide the way
  That leads to Learning's loftiest heights;
    Press on, and win the day.

  TELL me the name of something, dear;
    As book, or ball, or kite;
  Now tell some quality of each,
    As big, or round, or light.
  And now some word that means to be    Yes, is, my child, you're right.

  The ink is black,  The snow is white,
    The ice is hard--is cold:
  The sky is blue, The air is light,
    Sometimes the child is bold.   {130}  And thus let names of everything
    Afar or near be told;
  And Qualities of each and all
    Let memory infold.

* * * * *

  NOW give one name, and tell me all
    Its qualities as well;
  As, coal is black, and coal is hard,
    And coal's inflammable.

  And now, you children should be taught
    That we need not repeat
  The name, with every word that tells
    Its qualities complete.

  Coal's black, hard, and inflammable,
    We say; but all so fast,
  A comma follows after each,
    With and before the last.

  And now use iron, chalk, and clay,
    Use water, snow, and ice,
  Use thread and needle, pin and pen,
    Use every word that's nice.--

  ANOTHER lesson now attend--
    We'll find some quality
  Embraced by several different things,
    As you will plainly see.

  Snow is cold, ice is cold,
    Salt is cold as well;
  Snow, ice, and salt are cold, my child,
    As every one can tell.

  "SHE smiled on me, she smiled on me!"
    In ecstacy exclaimed
  A little waif in tattered gown,
    With form so halt and maimed.
  Remember, even a smile may cheer,
    A cup of water, bless;
  A kindly word, sow seeds of joy,
    Whose fruit is happiness.

  "Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
  Up above the world so far,
  Whisper now and tell me, pray,
  What you are, and how you stay."

  "Some of us away so far,
  Planets like your own Earth, are;
  And we shine with borrowed light,
  Borrowed from the Sun, so bright.

  "Some of us are silvery moons,
  Shining all the nightly noons;
  Some of us are jelly, soft,
  Shooting, falling, from aloft.

  Some of us are Nebulae,--
  Faint and misty stars we be;--
  Some are Suns to other worlds;
  Here and there a Comet whirls.

  "Having each our time and place,
  Swinging in the wondrous space;
  Held in line by Him who planned,
  And who holds you in His hand."

    Hi-diddle-diddle,
    The Sun's in the middle,
  And planets around him so grand,
    Are swinging in space,
    Held forever in place,
  In the Zodiac girdle or band.

    Hi-diddle-diddle,
    The Sun's in the middle,
  And Mercury's next to the Sun
    While Venus, so bright,
    Seen at morning or night,
  Comes Second, to join in the fun.

    Hi-diddle-diddle,
    The Sun's in the middle,
  And Third in the group is our Earth;
    While Mars with his fire,
    So warlike and dire,
  Swings around to be counted the Fourth.

    Hi-diddle-diddle,
    The Sun's in the middle,
  While Jupiter's next after Mars,--
    And his four moons at night
    Show the speed of the light;
  Next golden-ringed Saturn appears,

    Hi-diddle-diddle,
    The Sun's in the middle,
  After Saturn comes Uranus far;--
    And his antics so queer,
    Led Astronomers near
  To old Neptune, who drives the last car.

  "Bob-o-link, bob-o-link, reed-bird, butter-bird,
  All through the country his jingle is gaily heard;
  Reveling in rice-fields he sweeps through the South,
  While wheat, corn, and barley-fields welcome him North,
  And Bobby is wild with his singing and chatter,
  So saucily calling with rattle and clatter,
  Bob-o-link, bob-o-link, Tom-denny, Tom-denny,
  Come-now-and-pay-me-that-two-shillings-one-penny,
  No,-I'll-not-wait-for-a-day-nor-a-minute,
  So-pay-me-up-quick-or-you'll-get-your-foot-in-it;--
  Chink-a-chee, chink-a-chee, chink-a-chee, chin-it,
  Yes,-pay-me-up-quick,-or-you'll-get-your-foot-in-it."

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, chicky-bid would stray
  To the trap that had been set for weasels, many a day,

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, chicky-bid walked in,
  And the trap its teeth shut up, on chicky-biddy's shin.

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, chicky-bid is brought,
  And her leg, so sore and big, we bathe with water hot.

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, here's a broken bone,
  All so rough,--but close enough we bring the ends, right soon.  {139}
  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, strips of paste-board cut,
  We will place with care and grace, from thigh to trembling foot

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, softest cotton, too,
  Just within the paste-board thin, to fit around so true.

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, now with tape or band,
  Neatly wind, and closely bind, with deft and skillful hand.

  Limpy-dimpy-dingle, nature'll do the rest,
  And soon will knit the bone to fit, as good as very best.

  I know a castle, curious,
    Of lovely form and make;
  That we may view the castle through,
    A hasty peep we'll take.   {141}
  The framework of my castle proud,
    Is neither wood nor stone,
  But earthy matter mixed with lime
    And hardened into bone.

  This frame, of oddments is composed,--
    In mind, the number fix,--
  Of long and short and thick and thin,
    Two hundred just, and six.

  And these are fastened each to each,
    By hinges, like, or joints,
  Which, with an oil so soft and pure,
    The Builder wise, anoints.

  For garnishing this goodly frame,
    Quaint cushions, large and small,
  Are fitly fashioned, each in place,
   And pliant, one and all.

  For cushion covers, deftly wrought,
    A scarf so beautiful,
  So pinkish-white, so loose yet tight,
    So warm and yet so cool;

  Upon the smoothly rounded roof
    Is strewn the finest floss,
  A filmy veil, as soft as silk,--
    Or is it fairy moss?   {142}
  Two windows hath this castle fair,
    That shut and open wide,
  With cords and pulleys, curtains fringed,
    And fixtures fine beside.

  These wondrous windows even smile
    And speak and fairly dance,
  And play at anger, hate, and love,
    And mischief, too, perchance.

  These windows, too, are marvelous
    In that they let the light
  Both in and out for him who dwells
    Within, the lordly knight.

  Two telephones of wondrous make,--
    A door, with guards and bell,--
  A ventilator, double-bored,
    Aye does its duty well.   {143}
  And ah! within, this castle grand,
    Is fitted to a T,
  With everything that's needful there
    For serving you or me.

  And strange to tell, this castle builds
    Itself, if but supplies
  Be placed within the open door,
    With watchful care and wise.   {144}
  It clears itself too of the dust
    And ashes strewed within,
  If but the alley-ways are free,
    And outlets all a-kin.

  And stranger still, this castle comes
    And goes where'er the will
  Of him who holds the rule within
    Shall bid, his hest to fill.

  And wondrous more than all beside,
    This house the temple is,
  Of Him the great designer, God,--
    And "all the earth is his."

  Now list, and of this castle grand
    A further tale we'll tell,
  In language plain, so plain that all
    May read and heed it well.

  The food we eat makes all our blood,
    And makes us children grow;
  And if we eat improper food
    It harms from top to toe.

  We all have teeth quite sharp and strong,
    With which to chew our food,
  And in the mouth are glands and glands--
    Yes, quite a numerous brood.

  These glands pour out saliva, free,
    To moisten what we eat
  And then a trap-door at the throat
    Performs a wondrous feat

  In guiding all the food along
    Into the Esophagus,
  And thence to stomach through a pass
    Called Cardiac Orifice.

  And here 'tis mixed with Gastric Juice,
    And into chyme is churned
  Then through the gateway, Pylorus,
    As wiser ones have learned.   {146}
  'Tis in the Duodenum now,
    Where it is mixed with Bile,
  And with the Pancreatic juice,
    Which changes it to Chyle.

  This Chyle flows on, and all that's fit
    For nourishment and growth,
  Is taken up by Lacteals,
    Or "tubes with many a mouth."

  These lead to the Thoracic Duct,
    Which holds a spoonful large,
  And from this Duct a pipe proceeds
    Through which it may discharge.

  Into the great Sub-clavian vein,
    Which to the Heart doth lead,
  Whence it is sent into the Lungs,
    And into good blood made.

  Then back into the Heart it flows,
    The muscles there contract,
  And pump it into Arteries,
    Which wind to every part.

  We'd like to tell about the Bones,
    The Ribs and Vertebras,
  The Clavicle, or Collar-bone,
    Breast-bone, and Scapulae;   {147}
  Of hinge, and ball-and-socket joints;
    Of muscles, tendons, skin,
  Of lungs and veins and arteries,
    Of nerves and heart and brain.

  But, Ah! we should your patience tire,
    Were we the whole to tell,
  So, waiting till another time,
    We bid you now, farewell.

  How many bones in the human face?
  FOURTEEN, when they're all in place.

  How many bones in the human head?
  EIGHT, my child, as I've often said.

  How many bones in the human ear?
  THREE in each; and they help to hear.

  How many bones in the human spine?
  TWENTY-SIX; like a climbing vine.

  How many bones of the human chest?
  TWENTY-FOUR ribs and TWO of the rest.

  How many bones the shoulders, bind?
  Two in each; one before, one behind.

  How many bones in the human arm?
  In each arm, ONE; TWO in each fore-arm.

  How many bones in the human wrist?
  EIGHT in each, if none are missed.

  How many bones in the palm of the hand?
  FIVE in each, with many a band.

  How many bones in the fingers ten?
  TWENTY-EIGHT, and by joints they bend.

  How many bones in the human hip?
  ONE in each; like a dish they dip.

  How many bones in the human thigh?
  ONE in each, and deep they lie.

  How many bones in the human knees?
  ONE in each, the knee-pan, please.

  How many bones in the leg from knee?
  Two in each, we can plainly see.

  How many bones in the ankle strong?
  SEVEN in each, but none are long.   {152}
  How many bones in the ball of the foot?
  FIVE in each; as in palms were put.

  How many bones in the toes half-a-score?
  TWENTY-EIGHT, and there are no more.

  And now, all together, these many bones, fix,
  And they count in the body TWO HUNDRED and Six.

  And then we have, in the human mouth,
  Of upper and under, THIRTY-TWO TEETH.

  And we now and then have a bone, I should think
  That forms on a joint, or to fill up a chink.

  A Sesamoid bone, or a Wormian, we call,
  And now we may rest, for we've told them all.

  SEVEN million little openings,
    God has made upon your skin;
  Mouths of tiny little sewers
    That run everywhere, within.
  And along these numerous sewers
    All impurities must go,
  That are not by other outlets,
    Carried off with active flow.   {154}
  When these many little openings.
    We call PORES, get shut quite close,
  Through your frame the poison wanders,
    Making you feel dull and cross.
  It will make your lungs grow tender,
    And they'll soon be sore, and cough;
  It will make your stomach feeble,
    And your head ache hard enough.

  Then your heart can not be joyous,
    And your other organs, too,
  Will get weak, and be unable
    For the work they ought to do;
  Quaking nerves will groan and quiver,
    Weary bones be racked with pain,
  And you'll all the time be saying:
    "How can I be well again?"

  HEAT and BATHING widely open
    All the pores, when discords dire,
  Quick flow out in perspiration,
    Quenching all the fever-fire.
  Raveling out the tangled tissues,
    Setting free the life-blood's flow,
  Pouring forth the pent-up poisons,
    Wakening thus a healthful glow.

  Our lungs are formed of curious cells,
    And tubes to draw in air,--
  And if we breathe quite deep and full
    And take our needful share,
  'Twill keep our blood so red and pure,
    Our health so firm and true,
  We scarce shall know what suffering means,
    But joyous feel, and new.

  But if we wear our clothing tight,
    The little cells will close,
  And then they cannot do their work,
    And thus our health we lose;
  Or if we breathe the air impure,
    'T will give us tainted blood,
  While plenty, pure, sun-ripened air
    Will make us glad and good.

  Three little girls with their sun-bonnets on,
    Wandered out for a walk in the dew;
  And they tip-toed about, full of frolic and fun,
    While their aprons around them they drew.

  But their little wet feet brought fever and cough,
    And their little red lips grew so thin;
  And their little round faces were haggard enough,
    O, I'm sure they'll not do it again!

  Not do it, I mean, without boots that shall guard
    Their ankles and feet from the wet;
  For the care of the health brings a joyous reward,
    The neglect, brings us pain and regret.

  Mamma, if you'd have me
    Be a temperance child,
  You must give me only
    Food that's pure and mild.
  Highly-seasoned dishes
    Make the stomach crave
  Stronger things; and often
    Lead to drunkard's grave.

  Listen, children! when your head aches,
    Do not eat, but wait a meal;
  This will oftentimes relieve you,
    Making you right joyous feel.

  Listen, children! when your stomach
    Rolls and tumbles, wait awhile;
  Do not eat, but drink warm water,
    And you'll soon be glad and smile.

  Listen, children! in hot water
    Put your feet when you've "a cold;"
  Into bed now, wrapped in blankets,
    And you'll soon be well, we're told.

  Listen, children! perspiration
    Is a saving from much sin:
  Wash and rub, and dry well after;
    Thus we quell disease within.

  Listen, children! when you're hungry
    Do not stuff you like a pig,
  But eat slowly and chew thorough,
    Lest your teeth your grave shall dig.

    Tick-tock, tick-tock,
  Sings the pretty cuckoo clock;
    Tick-tack, tick-tack,
  Time flies on, but ne'er comes back.

    Tick-tock, tick-tock,
  Sings the dainty crystal clock;
    Tick-tack, Tick-tack,
  Work and wait, and never lack.

    Tick-tock, Tick-tock,
  Sings the old grandfather's clock,
    Tick-tack, tick-tack,
  Take and keep, the better track.

  South America's soil
    Yields the towering Cow-tree,
  With sweet milk in its cells
    For you or for me;
  Its sap is the Milk,--
    Cut the tree and it flows;
  Like leather its leaves,
    And its branches like bows.

  Then, too, my dear children,
    The sweet Sugar-pine,
  On Pacific's wild coast,
    In our own soil we find;
  Cut or scoop out the trunk,
   And the juices ooze forth,
  And harden, for sugar,
    Like icicles, North.

  And, funny enough,
    There's a Butter-tree, too;
  Its seeds, when boiled down,
    Will make butter for you.
  In India and Africa
    The Butter-tree grows,
  With coffee and spices,
    As every one knows.

  And listen, dear children,
    In hot countries too,
  The Bread-fruit tree grows,
    Most delicious for you;
  Its great roasted nuts,
    Like soft, sweet loaves of bread,
  Form most of the food
    On which natives are fed.  {164}
  And further, its fibres
    Of bark, will make cloth;
  Its wood, boats and houses;--
    Its leaves are not loath
  To be used for a towel,
    A table-cloth, napkin;
  Its juice will make bird-lime,
    And tinder, its catkin.

  And, children, one more,
    Here's a spicy Clove-tree,
  Growing forty feet high,
    Ornamental, you see;
  The little round drop,
    Fixed the four prongs between,
  Forms the blossom or flower,
    When it's not picked too green.

  Now list, while I tell you,
    Clove-trees will not grow
  Except in hot climates,
    Moluccas, or so,   {165}  Where they bloom the year round,
    In the sunshine or storm,
  With their trunks straight and smooth,
    And their pyramid form.

  And lastly, dear children,
    Clove-trees never flower
  Till a half-dozen years
    They have grown, maybe more;
  Then the buds, picked by hand,
    And dried quickly, are best;--
  Trees a hundred years old
    Often yield with the rest.

  In the Solomon Group in the great Southern Sea,
    And on Isabel Island alone,
  A tree village is found, up the steep, rocky ground,
    On the top of a mountain of stone.

  So gigantic the trees that it is not with ease
    That the houses of natives are built,
  For the stems are six score of our feet, maybe more,
    And you'd think they must live on a stilt.

  By a ladder facade the ascent must be made,
    Formed of pliable trees, or a creeper
  Resembling the vine, which the natives entwine,--
    And the ladder's drawn up by the sleeper;

  For these houses are made but to sleep in, 'tis said,
    When some enemy threatens;--to guard
  'Gainst surprise in the night, they are fortified quite,
    With great stones, to be thrown at a pard.

  At the foot, of these trees are the day-huts for ease
    And for eating and dancing and play,
  Yet the huts up so high have a goodly supply
    Of the needful for night or for day.

  Those Creatures that live in the dark,
    And have no use for eyes,
  Are made without these organs bright,
   Which we so highly prize.

  The fish in the Mammoth cave,--
    Some species of the Ant,
  Have only a trace where eyes should be,
    Yet never know the want.   {169}
  Who knows but girls and boys,
    Kept always in the dark,
  Might come to have but little sight,
    And finally not a spark.

  God meant us to live in the light,
    He has poured it all about;
  Oh, let us not ourselves destroy,
    By shutting His sunshine out.