THE CHEERFUL GIVER.
��" God loveth a cheerful giver."
��" WHAT shall I render thee, Father Supreme, For thy rich gifts, and this the best of all ? " Said a young mother, as she fondly watch 'd Her sleeping babe.
There was an answering voice, That night, in dreams.
" Thou hast a little bud
Wrapt in thy breast, and fed with dews of love. Give me that bud. 'Twill be a flower in heaven."
But there was silence. Yea, a hush so deep, Breathless and terror-stricken, that the lip Blanch'd in its trance.
" Thou hast a little harp, How sweetly would it swell the angel's song. Give me that harp."
There burst a shuddering sob, As if the bosom by some hidden sword Was cleft in twain.
Mom came. A blight had found The crimson velvet of the unfolding bud,