Hear the Song.

I

There are dark and gloomy corners full of sorrow, like as not,
But the world is glad with music and it carols everywhere;
And if now and then a shadow dwells upon a little spot,
There is sunshine on the meadows and the wide ways laugh at care.

O, my children! Don't you worry,
As you go along;
Let your life be glad and cheerful
And you'll hear the Song!

II.

As we wander down the valleys where the griefs of life assail,
We will find a few obstructions that are heaping in the road;
But with feet that never weary and with hearts that never quail,
We shall mount the glory-summits to the Summer-lands' abode.

O, my children! Don't you weary
As you go along;
Climb the path-ways to the hill-tops,
And you'll hear the Song!

III.

You will bend beneath the burdens as you meet the toils of life,
And your arms will ache a little as you labor down the way;
But the rest of God's perfection waits beyond the bitter strife
And He crowns the souls that struggle with His Everlasting Day!

O, my children! Don't you murmur,
As you go along;
Look above to God's Anointed,
And you'll hear the Song!

Caught on the Fly.

When Love leaves life, Laughter packs up her things and gets ready to
move.

When Hope dies in the heart, all its poor relations refuse to remain for
the funeral services.

The people who are all the time trying to manage other people should
remember that though Providence created Man in His own image, it has
been unable to manage him ever since.

"When Canderdates Git After Pa."

When canderdates git after Pa,
Set up seegars, an' tell him flat
How big a man he is, and Ma
How good she cooks, an' all of that,
I slip aroun' an' let 'em know
I'm something on the homestead, too,
Fer onct upon a time or so
They'll hand a nickel out fer you!

When they come here, it's mighty fine!
Pa stops the team, an' work we quit
An' them there fellere stays to dine
An' talk the day-lights outen it!
They tell us how the gover'ment
Is goin' on, an' quote the law
An' tell their choice fer president,
When canderdates git after Pa!

An' then they'll brag about his farm;
How fine his hogs an' hosses air;
How slick his cattle, till my arm
Gits tir