Just then his mother entered, with her heart quite full of joy
And gratitude to God above, who had kept her darling boy;
She had been alone to thank him, and offer up a prayer
That God who had preserved her son, would keep him in his care.
“Dear mother, will you pray,” said he, “and read in God’s own Word
That story of the Prodigal, which I have often heard;
For I have wandered far away, but now desire to come
And love and serve that Being who hath safely brought me home?”
Her prayer was heard; and Alfred Bell is now a Christian man,
Serving his God with faithfulness, and doing all he can
That those who go to distant lands, to search for mines of gold,
May find within God’s holy Word a mine of wealth untold.
THE PULSIFER CHILDREN.
Oh, Mother! said little Ruth Greenwood one day,
Please come to the window this moment, I pray,
For two little children are here, by the door,
They are weary and cold, and they look very poor.
The Pulsifer children, I see, said her mother,
’Tis dear little Ella, and Harry, her brother
Run, call them in quickly! their mother, I know
Returned to this village a few days ago.
I sent them, this morning, a cart-load of wood,
And fear that they now may be suffering for food;
We’ll fill up their baskets with bread and with meat,
And give the dear children a plenty to eat.
Their mother is proud, and she cannot endure
The neighbors should know they are now very poor;
But since we’ve “a will,” we must find out “a way,”
To help this poor widow—we must not delay.
Her father’s a drunkard, her husband is dead,
And she is too ill to hold up her head;
The wretched old man now reels thro’ the street,
And never provides them a mouthful to eat.