It is always a mistake to cram a juvenile mind. A precocious
child is certainly as far as possible from being an interesting
one. Children ought to be children, and nothing else. But I am
not sorry that I learned to read when so young, because there
were years of my childhood that came after, when I had very
little time for reading anything.

To learn hymns was not only a pastime, but a pleasure which it
would have been almost cruel to deprive me of. It did not seem to
me as if I learned them, but as if they just gave themselves to
me while I read them over; as if they, and the unseen things they
sang about, became a part of me.

Some of the old hymns did seem to lend us wings, so full were
they of aspiration and hope and courage. To a little child,
reading them or hearing them sung was like being caught up in a
strong man's arms, to gaze upon some wonderful landscape. These
climbing and flying hymns,--how well I remember them, although
they were among the first I learned! They are of the kind that
can never wear out. We all know them by their first lines,--

"Awake, our souls! away, our fears!"

"Up to the hills I lift mine eyes."

"There is a land of pure delight."

"Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace!"