We trust every bless-ing may fall;
And this is the prayer and the fond hope of those
Who love her most dear-ly of all.

So now, lit-tle Rose, can you guess
Who sent you this let-ter by post?

ROSE.

Oh, yes, dear mam-ma, I can tell you; oh, yes!
For you, and pa-pa, love me most.

"YOUR HEA-VEN-LY FA-THER FEED-ETH THEM."

God loves His lit-tle birds; for all
His ten-der care He shows;
A sin-gle spar-row can-not fall
But its Cre-a-tor knows.

They do not sow, nor reap the corn,
Gar-ner nor barn have they;
God gives them break-fast every morn,
And feeds them through the day.

And this we know; for in His Word,
Where all His ways we read,
We find that eve-ry lit-tle bird
He cares for, and will feed.

God loves each lit-tle bird; but still
More ten-der is His care
For chil-dren who o-bey His will,
Than for the fowls of air.

[Illustration: YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER FEEDETH THEM. MATT. vi. 26.]

[Illustration: PLOUGH-ING.]

PLOUGH-ING.

The lit-tle birds by God are fed
But man must earn his dai-ly bread,
And work that he may eat;
Striv-ing his best, as John does now,
The broad ten-acre field to plough,
Where-in to sow the wheat.

Old John, the plough-man, ne'er re-pines,
Whe-ther it blows, or rains, or shines,
But hap-py still does seem;
And Dick, who leads the fore-most horse,
Goes whist-ling as he walks across
The field be-side the team.

Let us per-form as glad-ly, too,
The work our Mas-ter bids us do,
And then we need not fear;
But when from earth-ly toil we rest,
We all shall meet a-mong the blest
Who served Him tru-ly here.

"HOW IS THE WEA-THER?"

Cold win-ter has come,
And the cru-el winds blow--
The trees are all leaf-less and brown;
These two pret-ty rob-ins,
Oh, where shall they go
To shel-ter their lit-tle brown heads from the snow?
Just look at the flakes com-ing down.

But see, they have found a snug shel-ter at last,
And hark, how they talk, while the storm whis-tles past:

Says Pol-ly to Dick-y,
"You're near-est the door,
And you are the gen-tle-man, too:
Just peep out and see
When the storm will be o'er;
Be-cause, if the wea-ther's as bad as be-fore,
I think we will stay, do not you?"

[Illustration: Far up a-mong the moun-tain peaks,
His food the lone-ly Con-dor seeks.]

[Illustration: The Co-bra has a dead-ly bite.
And yet in mu-sic takes de-light.]

[Illustration: The A-rabs thro