[THE ANGELS' SONG]
"Hark!" the herald angels cry
Leaning from the starry sky,
"In a manger Christmas morn
Christ the baby King is born!"
Near Him stand the lowly kine,
O'er her little babe divine
Mother Mary bends her face
Full of wonder, tender grace.
Kneeling are the Wise Men Three,
Silent in humility.
In the humble wooden stall
Sleeps the baby King of all.
On the straw that warms His bed
Shines the halo 'round His head,
Like a little candle's light
Making all the stable bright.
Hark! the dewy Heavens ring
With the song the Angels sing,
"In a manger Christmas morn
Christ the baby King is born!"
THE LITTLE RAG-A-MUFFINS
"I wish I could do something for those poor little Brown children," said Susan one morning as she and brother Billy sat by the nursery window reading. "Their father is out of work, and I'm afraid they won't get any Thanksgiving dinner this year."
"I tell you what," suggested Billy, "as we have spent all our money, let's dress up in some of mother's old clothes and make believe we are rag-a-muffins. We'll slip out carefully tomorrow morning, without making any noise."
"That's a fine idea," said Susan. "We can use your water colors to paint our faces."
About 10 o'clock Thanksgiving morning the children went quietly upstairs to their playroom and painted their faces. Then, after dressing, they crept downstairs and out of the house. Their queer costumes attracted much attention, and their pretty, wistful ways gained for them many friends. In an hour, when they had counted their pennies, they found to their delight that they had over three dollars.