Robin Redbreast

My oM Welsh neiglilmr over tlie way Orspt .ftly oul in the snn of Spring, Piishc i trom herwin the toekofgiJ And Uttaned to her the robiu sing. Hor grandson, pUytog at marbles, stopped, And oraal In sport as lys wül be, Xauad stone Ht the bird, who hopped From bough to boagh in Iho applu tree. 'Xay," saiil the lirandmothcr; "have you not hearJ, My voor bail boy! of the flery pit. And lunv drop by drop this merciful bird OMrriu tlic wter tlmt qucmiies il? "He brings oool dew in his little bill And Iets it fall on the sonls of sin- You can aee the mark on his red breast still Of lires that scorch as he drops it in. ".My iioor Bron rhuddynl my breast-burued bird! Sin.u'ins so sweetly from limb to limb, Very dear to the heart of our Tord U ho who pitlel the lost like him." "Ami-n," I s:iid to the beautiful niyth, SJag bird oí Qod in my heart as well, Kach good thouirllt III drop wticrowith To cool and toflsan the lires of heil. Praycrs of lovn like rnhuirops fall Taan of pit y or coollng dew, Ancl dear to the heart of our lord are all ■Yliu suffer like him in the good they do