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,

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