Copyright, 1892, by
Charles Scribner's Sons._

X

FOR SUNDAY'S CHILD

_Sunday's child is full of grace._

_Old Proverb._

FOR SUNDAY'S CHILD

_All Things Bright and Beautiful_

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And order'd their estate.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;--

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,--
He made them every one;

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water
We gather every day;--

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

Cecil Frances Alexander.

_The Still Small Voice_

Wee Sandy in the corner
Sits greeting on a stool,
And sair the laddie rues
Playing truant frae the school;
Then ye'll learn frae silly Sandy,
Wha's gotten sic a fright,
To do naething through the day
That may gar ye greet at night.

He durstna venture hame now,
Nor play, though e'er so fine,
And ilka ane he met wi'
He thought them sure to ken,
And started at ilk whin bush,
Though it was braid daylight--
Sae do nothing through the day
That may gar ye greet at night.

Wha winna be advised
Are sure to rue ere lang;
And muckle pains it costs them
To do the thing that's wrang,
When they wi' half the fash o't
Might aye be in the right,
And do naething through the day
That would gar them greet at night.

What fools are wilfu' bairns,
Who misbehave frae hame!
There's something in the breast aye
That tells them they're to blame;
And the