He whipped his boy for lying,

And his cheeks were flaming red,

And of course there's no denying

There was truth in what he said--

That a liar's always hated;

But the little fellow knew

That his father often stated

Many things that were untrue.

He caught the youngster cheating,

And sent him up to bed,

And it's useless now repeated

All the bitter things he said;

He talked of honor loudly,

And a lesson to be learned,

And forgot he'd boasted proudly

Of the cunning tricks he'd turned.

He heard the younger swearing,

And he punished him again--

He'd have no boy as daring

As to utter words profane.

Yet the youngster could have told him,

Poor misguided little elf,

That it seemed unfair to scold him

When he often cursed himself.

All in vain is splendid preaching

And the noble things we say;

All our talk is wasted teaching

If we do not lead the way.

we can never, by reviewing

All the sermons on the shelves,

Keep the younger hands from doing

What we often do ourselves.

Unknown

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