And, pray, will you read it to me,
Mam-ma, if I give you a kiss?
I wish very much to know who it can be
That has sent me a let-ter like this.

MAM-MA.

To the lot of our dear lit-tle Rose
We trust every bless-ing may fall;
And this is the prayer and the fond hope of those
Who love her most dear-ly of all.

So now, lit-tle Rose, can you guess
Who sent you this let-ter by post?

ROSE.

Oh, yes, dear mam-ma, I can tell you; oh, yes!
For you, and pa-pa, love me most.




"YOUR HEA-VEN-LY FA-THER FEED-ETH THEM."


God loves His lit-tle birds; for all
His ten-der care He shows;
A sin-gle spar-row can-not fall
But its Cre-a-tor knows.