My teacher gives me pretty books,
And tickets red and blue.

She tells me that I must be good,

I'm sure I mean to try,
Because I want to go and live
With Jesus, when I die.

I want to hear his loving voice
Say, "Little Mary, come!"
Oh! let us all try to be good,
And meet in heaven, our home.

S. S. CELEBRATION BOOK.

"I AM A HAPPY LITTLE BOY."

And I'm a happy little boy,

From early morn till night

I'm shouting, leaping all the time,

In innocent delight.

My little heart is just as full

Of joy as it can be,

For 1 have parents kind and good,

Who always care for me.

And then I know that I have, too,
Up in the heaven so high,

A holy Father who looks down

On me with loving eye.

And though I cannot see his face,
I know he loves me well,
And if I live for him on earth,

In heaven I'll with him dwell.

S. S. CELEBRATION BOOK.

ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO A NEW

PASTOR.

(To be spoken by a small girl.)

Dear Pastor :

We feel as if you couldn't be quite our pastor, unless we children had something to say about it. So now that the old folks have said their say, and the matter is all fixed, (as they think), we want to give you a call of our own. We call you, dear pastor, to the Sunday-School, and bid you a hearty welcome to it. The right of working here just as hard as you please, and the privilege of taking your pay in cheerful glances and sunny smiles are freely yours. If you don't avail yourself of these rights and privileges, we shall be terribly disappointed in you; for we think you love. children, and we children are all ready to love you which we can't do, you know, unless you love us. We wish you could come into

the Sunday-School every week, and go round from class to class, and just help us a little — if it's only by a pleasant look. But perhaps you'll be too tired after preaching. Well, we won't complain, if you don't come every Sunday. But do come as often as you can; and please let us feel everywhere and always that you are our pastor. It'll take you a good while, of course, to learn all our faces, so we boys and girls have put our heads together, and made up our minds that we'll bow to you when we meet you on the street, without waiting for you to recognize us. So just look out for your little parish, when school is let loose, and be sure and bow back, Mr. Pastor, Yesyou may stop and shake hands, if you want to; if you don't, you needn't. We'll let you have a good many things all your own way, if we see that you really love us children; and I'm sure we shall.

ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO A NEW

SUPERINTENDENT.

(To be spoken by a small boy.)

Dear Mr. Blank:

It has been thought that somebody ought to bid you welcome to-day; and that I am the man to do it. I am sure I do it most heartily; for I know that you will make a tiptop Superintendent. I've had my eye on you, sir, for a good while. You've been here every Sunday, rain or shine, mud or no mud; and you've had your scholar's heads clustered about yours like flies round a lump of sugar. What a fuss they made to-day, when it was announced that you were to be Superintendent! But I just flung up my hat, and told 'em we didn't want a man whom his class would just as soon give up as not. It takes a good teacher to make a good Superintendent, and we think we've got about the right thing in you. And so we mean to stand by you we boys, and, of course, the girls will stand by us, and the old folks stand by the children always. So you see, you have the whole school to back you; and if you don't make it the best school in the country, it's your own fault. We expect you will, and we mean to help you.

OF

ADDRESS OF WELCOME AFTER

ABSENCE.

(To be spoken by a young man.)

Dear Pastor :

The older members of your flock have already congratulated you on your safe return, with re-invigorated health, and fresh fruits of experience and observation. I do not think, dear pastor, that they have missed you any more than we, or that they rejoice any more truly than we, that you are with us once again. And so we, dear pastor, claim the same privilege which the older folks have had, and say: "Welcome home!" Welcome to a SundaySchool which hasn't seemed quite like itself while you were away. Welcome to your old habits of visiting, not the old folks only, but the young people and the little children, from house to house and from class to class. Welcome to the privileges and responsibilities of your old office, and the honors of your old title: THE PASTOR WHO CARES FOR THE CHIL

DREN.

But while we bid you welcome, we would also give you fresh assurances of our hearty coöperation in that work on which you are about to enter with fresh zeal and earnestness.