BEWARE OF THORNS.
A hand encased in leathern glove,
One pensive autumn day,
Gathered some pretty wayside flowers,
To make a bright bouquet.
With kind intent the flowers were culled,
To please a loved one's taste;
But ah! unconsciously, some thorns
Were with the blossoms placed.
The hand that grasped the welcome gift
Soon felt the piercing smart,
And pain dispelled the grateful smile
That rayed out from the heart.
Would we to spirits bowed and sad
Convey a transient joy?
Let not the lack of tender skill
Our kindly deed alloy.
E. D.
If you pursue sin for profit you will never profit by your sin.