Where sunlight falls

WILHELMINA STITCH
AUTHOR OF SILKEN THREADS, SILVER LININGS, THE GOLDEN WEB, VERSES FOR CHILDREN, ETC.
SECOND EDITION
METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON
First Published ... March 21st 1929 Second Edition ... 1929
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
CONTENTS
Here's a song to cheer us, when worry creeps too near us and burdens seem too heavy for our strength. Endurance oft grows double to match the large-sized trouble, and shorten by its presence the weary journey's length. And this there's no denying, when hearts are faint with sighing and all the future's given o'er to dread; the tiniest little ills, no bigger than mere pills, begin to swell and thicken and to spread! This thought is truly cheerful—whenever we are fearful of troubles we believe are coming fast—if they ever come at all, they prove so very small, before the day is ended they have passed.
Said a Cocker to a Pekinese, swinging his silky ears, What is the date, oh, tell me, please, for each week seems like years! And his mournful eyes looked misty with a doggy's unshed tears. The Peke replied, I understand. Your family's away. And so is mine—a foreign land! His nose expressed dismay. But they're coming back, I know they are, in one more night and day. A gallant bulldog sniffed the air and spoke with British pride to that depressed and homesick pair, I let my folks decide. This is a very kindly place and here I will abide.... He sniffs, he trembles. Can it be? He wags his tail, pricks up his ears, runs back and forth—(oh, were he free!) and through the kennel bars he peers, gives two sharp yaps of glad surprise and meets his master's loving eyes.
Banks and hedgerows, woods and downs, all have felt the mystic Breath. Trees are donning lacy gowns, vanished winter's vaunt of death. The primrose lines the mossy banks; in the woods dance daffodils. Hearts are brimming o'er with thanks whilst the happy blackbird trills. Everywhere fresh signs of life; birds so busy with their nests. Shall we harbour thoughts of strife? Peace and Love would be our guests. Hum of insects fills the air, blackthorn robes the hedge in white; rosy is the flow'ring pear; daisies twinkle with delight. Bursting buds and leafing trees, catkins on the oak like lace. Voice of God on every breeze, in every little flow'r—His Face. Wayside Pulpits for His Voice! Oh, the comfort that they bring. Soul of Man, awake, rejoice! Blossom forth—for it is Spring.