Julia Ann Moore Poems

He is sleeping, sounding sleeping
In the cold and silent tomb.
He is resting, sweetly resting
In perfect peace, all alone.
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We are little children,
That go to Sabbath school,
To hear of our Redeemer,
Likewise the golden rule.
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Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
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On the life of Andrew Jackson,
Now dear people I will write,
And in sketches, I will tell you
His career with great delight.
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Hail the coming holiday,
With a hearty joyous feast,
And drive away sorrow, friends,
For a day or two at least;
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Bless those little children
That love to go to school;
Blessed be the children
That obey the golden rule.
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Fourth of July, how sweet it sounds,
As every year it rolls around.
It brings active joy to boy and man,
This glorious day throughout our land.
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Gently on the stream of time,
We are floating day by day,
In life's native boats sublime
We soon anchor in the bay.
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Air -- "He Folds Them on His Bosom''

Be kind to all little ones,
All fathers, mothers dear,
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Air -- "Lucy Long"


My friends, I pray you listen,
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