. . .The field be-side the team.

Let us per-form as glad-ly, too,
The work our Mas-ter bids us do,
  And then we need not fear;
But when from earth-ly toil we rest,
We all shall meet a-mong the blest
  Who served Him tru-ly here.

 

"HOW IS THE WEA-THER?"   Cold win-ter has come,
  And the cru-el winds blow—
The trees are all leaf-less and brown;
  These two pret-ty rob-ins,
  Oh, where shall they go
To shel-ter their lit-tle brown heads from the snow?
  Just look at the flakes com-ing down.

But see, they have found a snug shel-ter at last,
And hark, how they talk, while the storm whis-tles past:

  Says Pol-ly to Dick-y,
  "You're near-est the door,
And you are the gen-tle-man, too:
  Just peep out and see
  When the storm w. . . Read More