THE DEAD ROBIN.

All through the win-ter, long and cold,
  Dear Minnie ev-ery morn-ing fed
The little spar-rows, pert and bold,
  And ro-bins, with their breasts so red.

She lov-ed to see the lit-tle birds
  Come flut-ter-ing to the win-dow pane,
In answer to the gen-tle words
  With which she scat-ter-ed crumbs and grain.

One ro-bin, bol-der than the rest,
  Would perch up-on her fin-ger fair,
And this of all she lov-ed the best,
  And daily fed with ten-der-est care.

But one sad morn, when Minnie came,
  Her pre-ci-ous lit-tle pet she found,
Not hop-ping, when she call-ed his name,
  But ly-ing dead up-on the ground.

ALL THINGS OBEY GOD.

“He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth.”

God’s works are very great, but still
  His hands do not ap-pear: 
Though hea-ven and earth o-bey His will,
  His voice we can-not hear.

And yet we know that it is He
  Who moves and governs all,
Who stills the rag-ing of the sea,
  And makes the showers to fall.

Alike in mer-cy He be-stows
  The sun-shine and the rain;
That which is best for us He knows,
  And we must not com-plain,

Whe-ther He makes His winds to blow,
  And gives His tem-pests birth,
Or sends His frost, or bids the snow—­
  “Be thou up-on the earth.”

[Illustration:  He saith to the snow:  Be thou on the earth.  Job 37.6]

[Illustration:  Snow-Ball-ing.]

SNOW-BALL-ING.

See these mer-ry ones at play,
On this snowy New Year’s Day: 
How they run, and jump, and throw
Hand-fuls of the soft, white snow. 
You should hear them laugh and shout
As they fling the snow about! 
’Tis by Frank and Gus alone
That the balls are chief-ly thrown,
While their cou-sins make and bring
Other balls for them to fling. 
Ka-tie is pre-par-ing thus,
Quite a store of balls for Gus;
But her mer-ry sis-ter May
From her task has run a-way,
All that heavy lump of snow,
At her cou-sin Gus to throw. 
E-dith is not very bold,
And at first she fear-ed the cold;
Now at last you see her run
Down the steps to join the fun.

THE SICK DOLL.

Oh! is there any cause to fear
  That dol-ly will be very ill? 
To cure my lit-tle dar-ling here,
  Pray, doc-tor, use your ut-most skill.

And dol-ly, if you would get well,
  Hold out your arm, that Dr. Gray
May feel your tiny pulse, and tell
  What best will take the pain a-way.

And do not say:  “I will not touch
  That nas-ty phy-sic, nor the pill.” 
If lit-tle dolls will eat too much,
  They must not won-der if they’re ill.