Conversation Upon Ice. — Mother and Daughter
“Come, dear,” said Mrs. Jones one day,
To Jane, her little daughter,
“Come, look at this large block of ice,
Now floating in the water!
“You could not lift it from the ground,
If you should try all day,
And yet, like a mere feather, now,
You see it float away.”
“Oh, yes, mamma, it does seem strange,
That it should never sink,
Why that large block of ice should float,
I’m sure I cannot think.
“How very kind it is in God
To freeze the waters so,
That on the top the ice remains
And cannot sink below!
“For, while our winters are so cold,
How short a time ’twould take
To form one solid mass of ice,
In river, pond, or lake!
“And thus, from year to year, mamma,
Winter would ever reign,
For such a mass could never melt
When summer came again.
“But tell me how the ice is formed,
And what can make it float
Upon the surface of the lake,
Just like a little boat?”
“Our Heavenly Father, Jane, has filled
With bubbles full of air,
Each lump of ice—and we may see
His goodness everywhere.
“The air expands within the ice,
Just as its Maker pleases,
And rarifies to make it light,
Whene’er the water freezes.
“Thin cakes thus form in layers, Jane,
As you may often see
One ring within another, round
The body of a tree,
“And thus ’tis piled from week to week,
While Jack Frost is about,
Until the men with horses come,
To float the treasure out.”
“And what a luxury, mamma,
These large ice blocks will be
When summer comes, and we again
Such sultry weather see!
“Last August, I remember well,
When I came home from school,
How good the water used to taste,
With ice to make it cool.
“And then, you know, we used to have
Our butter hard and nice,
Our cake kept cool, and fish, and meat,
Preserved with lumps of ice.”
“Yes, dearest, God is ever kind—
How constant is his care!
He gives not only food and drink,
And clothes for us to wear,—
“But happy homes with luxuries filled,
And this bright world of ours
Is stored with precious gifts of love,
Abundant fruits and flowers,
“To gratify the taste of man,
And fill his heart with joy;
Then, should not grateful thoughts of God
Each passing hour employ?”
“Yes, dear mamma, for warbling birds
Send up their sweetest lays,
To thank Him for his gifts of love,
And we should offer praise
“To the great God, our dearest friend,
Who lives and reigns above;
Will you not pray to Him, mamma,
To fill my heart with love?”