He is musing earnestly;
And the flutterings of the bird
And its pleading, feeble chirp
Fall upon his ear unheard.

Well may little Harry think!
From the pear-tree's withered bough
He has brought the pretty nest,
Placed within his hat-crown now.

That is why he sits alone;
And he hears a voice within,
Louder than the Robin's note,
Crying, "Harry, this is sin!"

Then put back the nest, my boy,
So you will be glad and free,
Nor will hasten by in shame,
When you pass that withered tree.




GOD LOVES US.


[Illustration: Letter H.]

"How beautiful it is, mamma,
That God should love us all;