Jane Taylor

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

Oh that it were my chief delight To do the things I ought! Then let me try with all my might To mind what I am taught.

Though man a thinking being is defined, Few use the grand prerogative of mind. How few think justly of the thinking few! How many never think, who think they do!

I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days, A happy Christian child.

Far from mortal cares retreating, Sordid hopes and vain desires, Here, our willing footsteps meeting, Every heart to heaven aspires.

Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My mother.