Does she whisper, as her eyes
Bid the drowsy curtains rise:
“Wake me sure, to Santa see”
And; “I’ll be truly dood, if he,
Lets me give him just a kiss.”
Do the dimpled fingers cling,
Close and closer while you sing
Praises to the Savior’s name?
Telling of the happy hour
When a precious gift he came,
Prince of love, and peace and power.
THE BABY’S PALM.
A work of art is the baby’s arm
And fairer yet is the shell-pink palm;
But beautiful truth no honest toil,
Can ever that dainty surface soil:
Each cross it carries, each blow for right,
Will serve to make it, and keep it, white.
NO BLESSING EVER COMES BY CHANCE.
No blessing ever comes by chance,
No work is ever quite in vain;
The keenest effort must enhance
The value of the prize we gain.
A kindly act more than we think
May serve to brighten trouble’s brink;
A gentle word in sorrow’s ear,
Is strong the fainting heart to cheer.