Willie And His Conscience

1 Little Willie stood under an apple-tree-old,
The fruit was all shining with crimson and gold,
Hanging temptingly low--how he long'd for a bite,
Though he knew if he took one, it wouldn't be right.

2 Said he, "I don't see why my father should say,
'Don't touch the old apple-tree, Willie, to-day;'
I shouldn't have thought, now they're hanging so low,
When I ask'd for just one, he should answer me 'no.'

3 "He would never find out, if I took but just one,
And they do look so good, shining out in the sun,
There are hundreds and hundreds, and he wouldn't miss
So paltry a little red apple as this."

4 He stretch'd forth his hand, but a low, mournful strain
Came wandering dreamily over his brain;
In his bosom a beautiful harp had long laid,
That the angel of conscience quite frequently play'd.

5 And she sung, "Little Willie, beware, O! beware,
Your father has gone, but your Maker is there;
How sad you would feel, if you heard the Lord say,
'This dear little boy stole an apple one day.'"

6 Then William turn'd round, and as still as a mouse,
Crept slowly and carefully into the house;
In his own little chamber, he knelt down to pray
That the Lord would forgive him, and please not to say,
"Little Willie almost stole an apple one day."

Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #141b