THE LITTLE BEGGARS.

Two beggars are at the door, mamma,
Two beggars are at the door,

A beggar-boy and a beggar-girl,

And the wind is biting, at every whirl,
Their feet all naked and sore.

Oh, hasten and bring them in, mamma,
Oh, hasten and bring them in,

And let them sit by this fire so warm,

For they have been out in the cold, cold storm, And their clothes are tattered and thin.

And tell them this is their home, mamma,
Oh, tell them this is their home;

And give them something to eat that's nice,
Of bread and butter a good large slice,

And bid them no more to roam.

For is n't it all too bad, mamma,

Oh, is n't it all too bad,

That they must starve, or beg in the street,
No cloak to their backs, or shoes to their feet,
While I am so finely clad?

It may be God sent them here, mamma,
It may be God sent them here,

And now looks down from his home in the sky,
To watch them and see whether you and I
Are kind to his children dear.

And will he not angry be, mamma,
And will he not angry be,

If we let them go on in the storm so rough,
To perish with want, while more than enough
For them and for us have we?

TRYING TO DO RIGHT.

O that it were my chief delight
To do the things I ought;

Then let me try with all my might,
To mind what I am taught.

Wherever I am bid to go,

I'll cheerfully obey,

Nor will I mind it much, although
I leave some pretty play.

When I am bid, I'll freely bring

Whatever I have got,

And never touch a pretty thing,
If mother tells me not.

When she permits me, I may tell
About my little toys;

But if she's busy or unwell,

I must not make a noise.

And when I learn my hymns to say,
And work, and read, and spell,
I will not think about my play,
But try to do it well.

For God looks down from heaven on high,

Our actions to behold,

And he is pleased when children try

To do as they are told.

FAITH IN GOD.

I knew a widow very poor,

Who four small children had : The oldest was but six years old, A gentle, modest lad.

Taylor

And very hard this widow toiled
To feed her children four;
A noble heart the mother had,
Though she was very poor.

To labor, she would leave her home,
For children must be fed;

And glad was she when she could buy
A shilling's worth of bread.

And this was all the children had
On any day to eat:

They drank their water, ate their bread,
But never tasted meat.

One day when snow was falling fast,
And piercing was the air,

I thought that I would go and see
How these poor children were.

Ere long I reached their cheerless home— 'T was searched by every breeze— When, going in, the eldest child

I saw upon his knees.

I paused to listen to the boy :

He never raised his head,

But still went on, and said, "Give us
This day our daily bread."

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I waited till the child was done,
Still listening as he prayed;

And when he rose, I asked him why
That prayer he then had said.

Why, sir," said he, "this morning, when

My mother went away,

She wept, because she said she had

No bread for us to-day.

"She said we children now must starve,
Our father being dead;

And then I told her not to cry,
For I could get some bread.

"Our Father,' sir, the prayer begins,
Which made me think that he,
As we have no kind father here,
Would our kind Father be.

"And then you know, sir, that the prayer Asks God for bread each day;

So in the corner, sir, I went,

And that's what made me pray."

I quickly left that wretched room,
And went with fleeting feet,

And very soon was back again

With food enough to eat.