LITTLE ONES AT HOME. 81

 

My tangled hair she smoothed with care,
With water bathed my brow ;

And all with such a gentle touch—
I wish she’d do it now.

But she will come; she’ll be at home
To-morrow night; and then

I hope that she will never be

So long away again.

  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
    
 

GOING TO BED.
Down upon my pillow warm,
I now lay my little head,
And the rain, and wind, and storm,
Cannot come too nigh my bed.

Many little children poor
Have not anywhere to go;
And sad hardships they endure,
Such as I did never know.

Dear mamma, I’ll thank you oft
For this comfortable bed,

And this pretty pillow soft,
Where I rest my weary head.

And I'll lift my heart in prayer
To the God that dwells above ;

Thank him for his watch and care,

And for all his tender love.