A LITTLE CHILD'S PRAYERS

I
MAKE me, dear Lord, polite and kind
To every one, I pray;
And may I ask you how you find
Yourself, dear Lord, to-day?
II
Lord, I have lost a toy
With which I love to play;
And as you were yourself a boy
Of just my age to-day,
O Son of Mary, would you mind
To help me now my toy to find?

THE CHILD

AT BETHLEHEM

I
LONG, long before the Babe could speak,
When he would kiss his mother's cheek
And to her bosom press,
The brightest angels, standing near,
Would turn away to hide a tear,
For they are motherless.
II
Where were ye, Birds, that bless His name,
When wingless to the world He came,
And wordless,—tho' Himself the Word
That made the blossom and the bird?
III
TO HIS MOTHER
He brought a Lily white,
That bowed its fragrant head
And blushed a rosy red
Before her fairer light.
He brought a Rose; and lo,
The crimson blossom saw
Her beauty; and in awe
Became as white as snow.