Let me weep as I will, and the teardrops
May wash from my dim eyes away
The shadows that hide in their garments,
The light and the glory of day.
Perhaps, as you say, Christ is tender,
And he'll shelter my lamb in his breast,
But your sympathy hurts me, I cannot--
I will not say yet--"It is best."

[Illustration: "THE NAUGHTY DOLLY"]

The Naughty Dolly

"Oh, Dolly! How can you be naughty?
You've been naughty the whole day through;
You spoiled your white dress in the gutter,
And stuck up my pictures with glue;
And when in a corner I put you,
And plead with you so to be good,
You stared in my face with a simper,
And acted so saucy and rude.
I have tried so hard to be patient--
For I'm sorry to punish you so;
And I love you, my poor naughty Dolly,
Much more than you ever can know.
I hope you will think the day over;
I am going to bed now--good-night.
Be a good little Dolly to-morrow,
And try all the day to do right."

Mabel's Lesson

Mabel stood by the garden gate
Swinging her hat in a careless way;
A frown on her face, a pout on her lip;
For naughty had Mabel been that day.

A pert brown Thrush on a bough o'er head
Fluttered his wings and carolled his song.
Happy as ever a bird could be,
Singing and working all day long.

Mabel had risen late that morn;
The breakfast was over, and everything cold;
Mamma was busy and Harry was ill,
And Bridget did nothing at all but scold.

Long ere the light, the Thrush had been out,
Catching his breakfast as best he could;
Working and singing with right good will--
Never was bird in a merrier mood.

Mabel had started the day all wrong,
Had hurriedly dressed and forgotten to pray;
The bird sang on and she heard his song,
And the wonderful things he seemed to say.

"I waked," he sang, "as one by one
The stars slipped out of the purple night,
Ere the slender fingers of infant dawn
Could catch the thread of their faint pure light.

I bathed in the brook that sings near by,
And borne on the breath of the opening day,
Joyously up to the brightening sky,
I sent to my Maker a grateful lay.

And so I go on and I build my nest,
Happy and busy as bird can be;
For I know though the winds blow cold and chill,
My Heavenly Father guardeth me."

Mabel looked up with a penitent fa