"Just what you want me to."
"Well, I think I should like you to talk to me a little."
"What shall I talk about? Shall I tell you my hymn for to-day?"
"Yes, if you like."
"Every day mamma teaches us a verse of a hymn," said Bessie, "till we know it all, and then on Sunday we say it to papa. I'll say the one for this week, to-night; but first I'll say it to you. It's such a pretty one. Sometimes mamma chooses our hymns, and sometimes she lets us choose them, but I choosed this myself. I heard mamma sing it, and I liked it so much I asked her to teach it to me, and she did. Shall I say it to you now?"
"Yes," said the colonel, and climbing on the sofa on which he sat, she put one little arm over his shoulder, and repeated very slowly and correctly:—
"I was a wandering sheep;
I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Father's voice;
I would not be controlled.
I was a wayward child;
I did not love my home;
I did not love my Shepherd's voice;
I loved afar to roam.
"The Shepherd sought his sheep;
The Father sought his child;
They followed me o'er vale and hill,
O'er deserts waste and wild.
They found me nigh to death;
Famished and faint and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love;
They saved the wandering one.
"Jesus my Shepherd is;
'Twas he that loved my soul;
'Twas he that washed me in his blood;
'Twas he that made me whole;
'Twas he that sought the lost,
That found the wandering sheep;
'Twas he that brought me to the fold;
'Tis he that still doth keep.
"No more a wandering sheep,
I love to be controlled;
I love my tender Shepherd's voice;
I love the peaceful fold.
No more a wayward child,
I seek no more to roam;
I love my heavenly Father's voice;
I love, I love his home."