Sisters prayed, and coted from
Genesis to Kingdom-come
Provin' of her title clear
To the mansions.—"Even her,"
They claimed, "might be saved, someway,
Though she'd danced, and played crowkay,
And wrought on her folks to git her
Fancy shoes that never fit her!"
Us to pray fer Evagene!—
With her hart as puore and clean
As a rose is after rain
When the sun comes out again!—
What's the use to pray for her?
She don't need no prayin' fer!—
Needed, all her life, more playin'
Than she ever needed prayin'!
I jest thought of all she'd been
Sence her mother died, and when
She turned in and done her part—
All her cares on that child-hart!—
Thought of years she'd slaved—and had
Saved the farm—danced and was glad....
Mayby Him who marks the sporry
Will smooth down her wings tomorry!
ON ANY ORDENARY MAN IN A HIGH STATE
OF LAUGHTURE AND DELIGHT
As it's give' me to percieve,
I most certin'y believe
When a man's jest glad plum through,
God's pleased with him, same as you.