God Gives Us A New Chance

Ella Higginson, under the title "When the Birds Go North Again," sings a pretty little song of hope, illustrating the goodness of God in giving to the saddest heart a new chance for blessing and achievements.

Oh, every year hath its winter,
And every year hath its rain -
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again;

When new leaves swell in the forest,
And grass springs green on the plain,
And the alder's veins turn crimson‚-
And the birds go north again.

Oh, every heart hath its sorrow,
And every heart hath its pain -
But a day is always coming
When the birds go north again.

'Tis the sweetest thing to remember
If courage be on the wane,
When the cold, dark days are over -
Why, the birds go north again.

 

How The Rabbit Brought The Easter Eggs

(Translated from the German)

      Once upon a time, many years ago, Spring had come back to the earth, and after a long, hard fight with sturdy, old Winter, had succeeded in driving him up into the mountains with his ice and snow.

      Then Spring walked through the bare woods, and under his feet little blades of green grass spring up, violets and anemones opened their dainty flowers, and out of the ground crept thousands of insects, rubbing their eyes after their long winter's sleep.

      Spring touched the trees, and at once the buds burst open and tender little leaves and blossoms peeped out of their warm winter covering. Soon large flocks of birds returned from the south, joyously greeted their old friends who had stayed at home and braved the cold winter. 

      Spring smiled as he looked around in his happy little world. Then he said to himself:

      "Everything is ready for the great reception, but where are the people? They do not seem to know that I have chased the cold Winter away. Probably they are still sitting around their stoves waiting for him to go. I must send word and invite them to come out."

      He called a little bird who was hopping near him with a bit of wood in his beak and said to him:

      "Birdie, I want you to be my messenger. Fly to the city and tell the people that we are waiting for them to go out into the wood and have a happy day with us."

      But the little bird said:

      "Dear Spring, I thank you very much for the honor, and should be only too happy to carry your message, but my little wife and I have just commenced to build my nest, and if I leave it now the wind will blow it all to pieces, for my wife is not strong enough to go building it alone."

      "Well, go and finish your nest," said Spring, kindly, and called another bird who had, he knew, finished his nest, and told him of the message he wanted him to carry.

      "Will you not excuse me, kind Spring?" asked the little bird. "We have seven beautiful eggs in our nest, and my wife is hatching them. If I go away she would starve to death, for she wouldn't leave eggs a minute to get something to eat."

      Spring spoke to two or three other birds, but he found it was the same with all of them. They were all busy with their own affairs, and he was too kind to send them away when they were so much needed in their homes. He looked around for another messenger when a rabbit ran across his path. 

      "Stop, little fellow," he cried. "Come here; I want you." He explained to him on what errand he wanted him to go. If you have ever seen a rabbit in the open field you know that he is the most timid fellow that ever was. At the least noise he starts off on a run and never stops until he reaches his home.

      He trembled all over when Spring spoke to him, and his voice shook as he said:

      "Oh, please, dear Spring, do not send me to the city. You know how many of my friends people kill every year with their terrible guns. I know some one will shoot me before I have even had time to deliver your message, and then what good will it do you?"

      "What a little coward you are!" laughed Spring. "But you need not talk to the big people at all; you can tell the dear little children. You are not afraid of them, are you?"

      "Oh, yes," sobbed the poor little rabbit. "They will throw stones at me and hurt me. I'm so afraid, please don't make me go!"

      "No, no, dear little Bunny; I cannot excuse you. But I won't let anybody hurt you. I have and idea! Come along with me and I will tell you."

      And they walked down to the brook, the rabbit trotting by his side, still trembling. He cut tender little twigs from the willow trees, wove a pretty little basket, and lined it with soft moss. Then he went back into the woods and looked into the all the bird's nests, and when he found one full of eggs he took one little egg out and laid it carefully in the basket.

      There were white eggs, there were brown ones, and there were eggs of sky blue. The robin gave one of her five blue eggs; the sparrow one of her brown speckled eggs; the woodpecker one of her white eggs, and the catbird a greenish blue one. Then Spring cut some pussy willow branches, placed them on top of the eggs, and tied the basket on the back of the rabbit, who had been looking on wonderingly.

      "Now, my little Bunny, we are ready to send our message. When night comes you run down to the city. Everybody will be asleep, so no one will see you. If you hurry, you can get back her before morning. You will not have to say a word; but on the doorstep of each house lay down one of these twigs of pussy willow and a little egg, and I'm sure all the people will understand what we wish to tell them."

      The rabbit nodded. He was not afraid to do that. He did as Spring told him.

      Next morning there was great joy in the city.

      "Papa, mamma, see what we have found." the happy children shouted. "The pussy willows are out; the birds have come back. Spring must be here. "Oh, let's go out to the woods."

      Everybody went, and such a happy time they had, gathering flowers and listening to the birds. This was Easter time. (The Washington Times, Sunday, April 23, 1905 - transcribed by Kathy Grimm)

The Ugly Duckling

THE UGLY DUCKLING

I

      It was summer. The country was lovely just then. The cornfields were waving yellow, the wheat was golden, the oats were still green, and the hay was stacked in the meadows. Beyond the fields great forests and ponds of water might be seen.

      In the sunniest spot of all stood an old farmhouse, with deep canals around it. At the water's edge grew great burdocks. It was just as wild there as in the deepest wood, and in this snug place sat a duck upon her nest. She was waiting for her brood to hatch.

At last one eggshell after another began to crack. From each little egg came "Cheep! cheep!" and then a little duckling's head.

      "Quack! quack!" said the duck; and all the babies quacked too. Then they looked all around. The mother let them look as much as they liked, for green is good for the eyes.

      "How big the world is!" said all the little ducklings.

      "Do you think this is all the world?" asked the mother. "It stretches a long way on the other side of the garden and on to the parson's field, but I have never been so far as that. I hope you are all out. No, not all; that large egg is still unbroken. I am really tired of sitting so long." Then the duck sat down again.

      "Well, how goes it?" asked an old duck who had come to pay her a visit.

      "There is one large egg that is taking a long time to hatch," replied the mother. "But you must look at the ducklings. They are the finest I have ever seen; they are all just like their father."

      "Let me look at the egg which will not hatch," said the old duck. "You may be sure that it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way. Oh, you will have a great deal of trouble, for a turkey will not go into the water. Yes, that's a turkey's egg. Leave it alone and teach the other children to swim."

      "No, I will sit on it a little longer," said the mother duck.

      "Just as you please," said the old duck, and she went away.

      At last the large egg cracked. "Cheep! cheep!" said the young one, and tumbled out. How large it was! How ugly it was!

      "I wonder if it can be a turkey chick," said the mother. "Well, we shall see when we go to the pond. It must go into the water, even if I have to push it in myself."

      Next day the mother duck and all her little ones went down to the water. Splash! she jumped in, and all the ducklings went in, too. They swam about very easily, and the ugly duckling swam with them.

      "No, it is not a turkey," said the mother duck. "See how well he can use his legs. He is my own child! And he is not so very ugly either."

II

      Then she took her family into the duck yard. As they went along, she told the ducklings how to act.

      "Keep close to me, so that no one can step on you," she said. "Come; now, don't turn your toes in.       
      A well-brought-up duck turns its toes out, just like father and mother. Bow your heads before that old duck yonder. She is the grandest duck here. One can tell that by the red rag around her leg. That's a great honor, the greatest honor a duck can have. It shows that the mistress doesn't want to lose her. Now bend your necks and say 'Quack!'"

      They did so, but the other ducks did not seem glad to see them.

      "Look!" they cried. "Here comes another brood, as if there were not enough of us already. And oh, dear, how ugly that large one is! We won't stand him."

      Then one of the ducks flew at the ugly duckling and bit him in the neck.

      "Let him alone," said the mother; "he is doing no harm."

      "Perhaps not," said the duck who had bitten the poor duckling, "but he is too ugly to stay here. He must be driven out."

      "Those are pretty children that the mother has," said the old duck with the rag around her leg. "They are all pretty but that one. What a pity!"

      "Yes," replied the mother duck, "he is not handsome, but he is good-tempered, and he swims as well as any of the others. I think he will grow to be pretty. Perhaps he stayed too long in the egg."

      "Well, make yourselves at home," said the old duck. "If you find an eel's head, you may bring it to me."

      And they did make themselves at home—all but the poor ugly duckling. His life was made quite miserable. The ducks bit him, and the hens pecked him. So it went on the first day, and each day it grew worse.

      The poor duckling was very unhappy. At last he could stand it no longer, and he ran away. As he flew over the fence, he frightened the little birds on the bushes.

      "That is because I am so ugly," thought the duckling.

      He flew on until he came to a moor where some wild ducks lived. They laughed at him and swam away from him.

      Some wild geese came by, and they laughed at the duckling, too. Just then some guns went bang! bang! The hunters were all around. The hunting dogs came splash! into the swamp, and one dashed close to the duckling. The dog looked at him and went on.

      "Well, I can be thankful for that," sighed he. "I am so ugly that even the dog will not bite me."

      When all was quiet, the duckling started out again. A storm was raging, and he found shelter in a poor hut. Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The old woman could not see well, and she thought he was a fat duck. She kept him three weeks, hoping that she would get some duck eggs, but the duckling did not lay.

      After a while the fresh air and sunshine streamed in at the open door, and the duckling longed to be out on the water. The cat and the hen laughed when he told them of his wish.

      "You must be crazy," said the hen. "I do not wish to swim. The cat does not; and I am sure our mistress does not."

      "You do not understand me," said the duckling. "I will go out into the wide world."

      "Yes, do go," said the hen.

      And the duckling went away. He swam on the water and dived, but still all the animals passed him by because he was so ugly; and the poor duckling was lonesome.

III

      Now the winter came, and soon it was very cold. Snow and sleet fell, and the ugly duckling had a very unhappy time.

One evening a whole flock of handsome white birds rose out of the bushes. They were swans. They gave a strange cry, and spreading their great wings, flew away to warmer lands and open lakes.

      The ugly duckling felt quite strange, and he gave such a loud cry that he frightened himself. He could not forget those beautiful happy birds. He knew not where they had gone, but he wished he could have gone with them.

      The winter grew cold—very cold. The duckling swam about in the water to keep from freezing, but every night the hole in which he swam became smaller and smaller. At last he was frozen fast in the ice.

      Early the next morning a farmer found the duckling and took him to the farmhouse. There in a warm room the duckling came to himself again. The children wished to play with him, but he was afraid of them.

      In his terror he fluttered into the milk pan and splashed the milk about the room. The woman clapped her hands at him, and that frightened him still more. He flew into the butter tub and then into the meal barrel.

      How he did look then! The children laughed and screamed. The woman chased him with the fire tongs. The door stood open, and the duckling slipped out into the snow.

      It was a cruel, hard winter, and he nearly froze. At last the warm sun began to shine, and the larks to sing. The duckling flapped his wings and found that they were strong. Away he flew over the meadows and fields.

      Soon he found himself in a beautiful garden where the apple trees were in full bloom, and the long branches of the willow trees hung over the shores of the lake. Just in front of him he saw three beautiful white swans swimming lightly over the water.

      "I will fly to those beautiful birds," he said. "They will kill me because I am so ugly; but it is all the same. It is better to be killed by them than to be bitten by the ducks and pecked by the hens."

      So he flew into the water and swam towards the beautiful birds. They saw the duckling and came sailing down toward him. He bowed his head saying, "Kill me, oh, kill me."

      But what was this he saw in the clear water? It was his own image, and lo! he was no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, but a—swan, a beautiful white swan. It matters not if one was born in a duck yard, if one has only lain in a swan's egg. The other swans swam around him to welcome him.

      Some little children came into the garden with corn and other grains which they threw into the water. The smallest one cried, "Oh, see! there is a new swan, and it is more beautiful than any of the others."

      The ugly duckling was shy and at first hid his head under his wing. Then he felt so happy that he raised his neck and said, "I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was an ugly duckling."

The Ugly Duckling Read Along by Little Readers

visit their YouTube channel for many more stories!

History of Pysanky From The Ukraine

      A pysanka (Ukrainian: писанка, plural: pysanky) is a Ukrainian Easter egg, decorated using a wax-resist (batik) method. The word comes from the verb pysaty, "to write", as the designs are not painted on, but written with beeswax. The word pysanka refers specifically to an egg decorated with traditional Ukrainian folk designs, and is not a generic term for any egg decorated using wax resist.

      Many other eastern European ethnic groups decorate eggs using wax resist for Easter. These include the Belarusians (пісанка, pisanka), Bulgarians (писано яйце, pisano yaytse), Croats (pisanica), Czechs (kraslice), Hungarians (hímestojás), Lithuanians (margutis), Poles (pisanka), Romanians (ouă vopsite, incondeiate or impistrite), Serbs (pisanica), Slovaks (kraslica), Slovenes (pisanica, pirhi or remenke) and Sorbs (jejka pisać).

Easter egg from Romania. Note the mostly white Pysanky in the
front, "Similarly, it is appropriate to give young people pysanky
 with white as the predominant color because their
 life is still a blank page."

      The art of the decorated egg in Ukraine, or the pysanka, probably dates back to ancient times. No actual ancient examples exist, as eggshells are fragile. As in many ancient cultures, Ukrainians worshipped a sun god (Dazhboh). The sun was important - it warmed the earth and thus was a source of all life. Eggs decorated with nature symbols became an integral part of spring rituals, serving as benevolent talismans.

      In pre-Christian times, Dazhboh was one of the main deities in the Slavic pantheon; birds were the sun god's chosen creations, for they were the only ones who could get near him. Humans could not catch the birds, but they did manage to obtain the eggs the birds laid. Thus, the eggs were magical objects, a source of life. The egg was also honored during rite-of-Spring festivals––it represented the rebirth of the earth. The long, hard winter was over; the earth burst forth and was reborn just as the egg miraculously burst forth with life. The egg, therefore, was believed to have special powers.

      With the advent of Christianity, via a process of religious syncretism, the symbolism of the egg was changed to represent, not nature's rebirth, but the rebirth of man. Christians embraced the egg symbol and likened it to the tomb from which Christ rose. With the acceptance of Christianity in 988, the decorated pysanka, in time, was adapted to play an important role in Ukrainian rituals of the new religion. Many symbols of the old sun worship survived and were adapted to represent Easter and Christ's Resurrection.

      In modern times, the art of the pysanka was carried abroad by Ukrainian emigrants to North and South America, where the custom took hold, and concurrently banished in Ukraine by the Soviet regime (as a religious practice), where it was nearly forgotten. Museum collections were destroyed both by war and by Soviet cadres. Since Ukrainian Independence in 1991, there has been a rebirth of the art in its homeland.

A mix of modern, diasporan and traditional Ukrainian pysanky.

      No actual pysanka have been found from Ukraine's prehistoric periods, as eggshells do not preserve well. Cultic ceramic eggs have been discovered in excavations near the village of Luka Vrublivets'ka, during excavations of a Trypillian site (5th to 3rd millennium BC). These eggs were ornamented, and in the form of торохкальці (torokhkal'tsi; rattles containing a small stone with which to scare evil spirits away).

      Similarly, no actual pysanky from the Kievan Rus' period exist, but stone, clay and bone versions do, and have been excavated in many sites throughout Ukraine. Most common are ceramic eggs decorated with a сосонка (horsetail plant) pattern in yellow and bright green against a dark background. More than 70 such eggs have been excavated throughout Ukraine, many of them from graves of children and adults. They are thought to be representations of real decorated eggs.

      These ceramic eggs were common in Kievan Rus', and had a characteristic style. They were slightly smaller than life size (2.5 by 4 cm, or 1 by 1.6 inches), and were created from reddish pink clays by the spiral method. The majolica glazed eggs had a brown, green or yellow background, and showed interwoven yellow and green stripes. The eggs made in large cities like Kiev and Chernihiv, which had workshops that produced clay tile and bricks; these tiles (and pysanky) were not only used locally, but were exported to Poland, and to several Scandinavian and Baltic countries.

      The oldest "real" pysanka was excavated in Baturyn in 2008, and dates to the end of the 17th century. Baturyn was Hetman Mazepa's capital, and it was razed in 1708 by the armies of Peter I. A complete (but crushed) pysanka was discovered, a chicken egg shell with geometric designs against a blue-gray background. The pysanka is currently being reconstructed; when completed, it will allow us to see what sort of ornamentation was in use in pre-1708 Ukraine.

      The Hutsuls––Ukrainians who live in the Carpathian Mountains of western Ukraine––believe that the fate of the world depends upon the pysanka. As long as the egg decorating custom continues, the world will exist. If, for any reason, this custom is abandoned, evil––in the shape of a horrible serpent who is forever chained to a cliff–– will overrun the world. Each year the serpent sends out his minions to see how many pysanky have been created. If the number is low the serpent's chains are loosened and he is free to wander the earth causing havoc and destruction. If, on the other hand, the number of pysanky has increased, the chains are tightened and good triumphs over evil for yet another year.

      Newer legends blended folklore and Christian beliefs and firmly attached the egg to the Easter celebration. One legend concerns the Virgin Mary. It tells of the time Mary gave eggs to the soldiers at the cross. She entreated them to be less cruel to her son and she wept. The tears of Mary fell upon the eggs, spotting them with dots of brilliant color.

      Another legend tells of when Mary Magdalene went to the sepulchre to anoint the body of Jesus. She had with her a basket of eggs to serve as a repast. When she arrived at the sepulchre and uncovered the eggs, the pure white shells had miraculously taken on a rainbow of colors.

Red, black and white colors on eggs.

      A common legend tells of Simon the peddler, who helped Jesus carry his cross on the way to Calvary. He had left his goods at the side of the road, and, when he returned, the eggs had all turned into intricately decorated pysanky.

      Many superstitions were attached to pysanky. Pysanky were thought to protect households from evil spirits, catastrophe, lightning and fires. Pysanky with spiral motifs were the most powerful, as the demons and other unholy creatures would be trapped within the spirals forever. A blessed pysanka could be used to find demons hidden in the dark corners of your house.

      Pysanky was believed to hold powerful magic, and had to be disposed of properly, lest a witch get a hold of one. She could use the shell to gather dew, and use the gathered dew to dry up a cow's milk. The witch could also use bits of the eggshell to poke people and sicken them. The eggshell had to be ground up very finely (and fed to chickens to make them good egg layers) or broken into pieces and tossed into a running stream.

      The cloth used to dry pysanky was powerful, too, and could be used to cure skin diseases. And it was considered very bad luck to trample on a pysanka–God would punish anyone who did with a variety of illnesses.

      There were superstitions regarding the colors and designs on the pysanky. One old Ukrainian myth centered on the wisdom of giving older people gifts of pysanky with darker colors and/or rich designs, for their life has already been filled. Similarly, it is appropriate to give young people pysanky with white as the predominant color because their life is still a blank page. Girls would often give pysanky to young men they fancied, and include heart motifs. It was said, though, that a girl should never give her boyfriend a pysanky that has no design on the top and bottom of the egg, as this might signify that the boyfriend would soon lose his hair.

More Related Content:

• How to Make Pysanka
• Pysanka Museum
• Customs and Traditions
• Pysanka Writing Videos

At Easter

At Easter by Kate A. Bradley

I wonder if the anguished moon looked
down
Through all that long last night
And buried in her scarred breast, lean and
brown,
The memory of that sight!
I wonder of th' uneasy birds awoke
As glowed that strange, great light
Which paled the purple east where morn-
ing broke.
And sang, inspired by God's own breath,
"There is no death! There is no death!" 

There is no death, O hearts that throb in

vain

With longing, pulsing tide,

Or in love's fullness, nigh akin to pain,

Unfearing abide;

There is no death, O soul whom niggard

fate

Has left unsatisfied.

The cycles swing and joy those lips await

Who oft have sung on earth in pain,

"I rise again! I rise again!"

No sacrifice, O Self, can blot thee out,

Or satisfy the debt

Which binds thee to the usurer of doubt

With interest of regret!

Still is not life to even thee denied:

One way remaineth yet-

As was thy Christ, must thou be crucified.

But with those wounds in hands and feet,

E'en Self finds resurrection sweet!

Rejoice, O soul whose work is just begun,

That all time lies before!

Rejoice, O heart whose treasure all have

won

That dimmer, farther shore!

The stone that angels moved away that

night

Was rolled from Heaven's door;

Awake and stand forth in hope's sudden

 light,

And sing as sang the birds that morn:

"There is no death, for Life is born!"

Paint and Design a Giant Egg With Watercolors

         This giant, bright colored Easter egg was painted using a soft camel hair brush dipped in watercolor paint. First the student used a black marker to draw her whimsical butterfly, fish and flowers. Then she painted in her picture with bright, festive colors. I have discovered that very young students produce marvelous watercolor paintings but grow apprehensive about the resulting finished product as they age. This is because the younger an art student is, the less inhibited they are about "how" their artwork looks. Their inhibitions are the unfortunate result of growing old, I'm afraid...

watercolor painted egg

Supply List:

• giant sheet of white construction paper
• watercolor set
• a soft camel hair brush among several other sizes to try
• one black permanent ink marker
• pictures of fish, birds and flowers to work from

Step-by-Step Instructions:

1. Cut white butcher paper or construction paper into large egg shapes. The teacher may wish to do this step in advance or not depending upon the age of the students.
2. Give the student black permanent ink markers to draw with. You may want to cover their tables with newsprint for this step and also give them aprons. Some young students get a little enthusiastic about using these markers where they shouldn't so keep an eye on the process to avoid disasters!
3. Teachers can hand pictures of what students can draw on their eggs around the room too. Things like insects, birds, symbols of Easter etc...
4. After drawing with permanent pens, collect these.
5. Now give each student a watercolor set and a small jar of water plus several kinds of paint brushes to fill in all of the white areas.

Cover Styrofoam Eggs and Cardboard Versions with Seeds and Beans

Pick up a mixed 15 bean soup bag at the grocery store and you needn't purchase so mush for 
variety in this craft...

      You can cover Styrofoam eggs with seeds and beans in an endless variety of patterns. The large Styrofoam egg pictured has a cross at one end and a yellow flower at it's other end. 

      It is important to use Styrofoam eggs for this craft so that you will be able to lightly press the seeds into the egg form as you glue these down.  This process will create a surface across the egg that is even and the seeds/beans will be firmly glued in place. Allow for a couple of days to complete your decorated egg. You will need to wait for sections of the egg to dry before completing others. Mod Podge the end product.

        If you would prefer to put bean eggs out after Easter for the birds, craft designs using a plastic eggs and use peanut butter for the glue instead. The birds will prefer you to decorate with seeds instead of the beans for sure!

 

The same egg decorating can be switched to cardboard shaped eggs for younger students.

Four Easter egg patterns in one!

"The Little Lamb" tract

      The Religious Tract Society, founded 1799, 56 Paternoster Row and 65 St. Paul's Chuchyard, was the original name of a major British publisher of Christian literature intended initially for evangelism, and including literature aimed at children, women, and the poor.

      The RTS is also notable for being the publisher of the Boys' Own Paper and Girl's Own Paper.

      The founders were of the same type of evangelicals who founded the London Missionary Society and the British and Foreign Bible Society, for example David Bogue.

      The society started by publishing tracts, but rapidly expanded their work into the production of books and periodicals. Their books were mostly small but did include larger works such as the multi-volume Devotional Commentary and the massive Analytical Concordance to the Bible of Robert Young.

      From the 1860s, the Society began publishing novels aimed at women and children, providing a platform for a new generation of women writers, including Rosa Nouchette Carey. 

      In 1935 the RTS merged with the Christian Literature Society for India and Africa to form the United Society for Christian Literature (USCL). In 1931, there was a change of imprint to Lutterworth Press for all RTS publications intended for the home market.

Cover of the tract.

 The Little Lamb Showing how it wandered, how it suffered,

 and how it was saved by the Good Shepherd.

London: The Religious Tract Society

The Little Lamb.

* * * *

      A friend of children, who loves them very much, one day went to see a school of infant orphans. He had been to visit them before, and had talked with them, and they knew him again. When he came into the schoolroom, their eyes looked bright, and they were very glad that he was come once more. Then they marched in a row, and went into another room, where there was a gallery, on which they were soon seated.

      Their friend talked to them kindly. He asked them about many things. He spoke to them about the Bible, and the good and true things in it. He gave them some short rhymes and verses, of which they were very fond, and they said them after him. He then told them some little stories about children, and about good men and women, and about many things which God had made and given to us. There was one story that pleased them very much, and as other children may like it too it is put in print that they also may know what he said about it.

A young shepherd by plays of flute while watching a flock of sheep.

 

 The Little Lamb

Showing how it wandered, how it suffered, and how it was saved by the Good Shepherd.

   

      There was a Little Lamb that lived in a very beautiful green field, 

Where flowers blow, and streams flow. 

      He was under the care of a very kind Shepherd, and was kept quiet safe. The little lamb ran about among the grass and played there, glad and happy. There were many other lambs, and they were never angry, they never hurt each other; but they all lived in peace and love.

      One day the little lamb of which we speak ran away from the rest, and went to the end of the field. All round it there was a bank and a hedge, to keep the flock from going astray. The little lamb went up to the top of the bank, and looked through the hedge. Everything seemed very pretty on the other side; there were many fine plants and the  

The little lamb leaves his flock.

birds were singing in the trees, and there was a large broad path that seemed to lead to some green fields beyond.

      For many days the little lamb went to the bank, and looked through the hedge. Then he did not seem so pleased as before with his own field, 

Where flowers grow, and streams flow;

but he wanted to go on the other side, and to run in the broad path.

      After some time, he looked about along the hedge to try and find a hole through which he might creep, and then go just a little way on the other side, and soon run back again. After looking a long time he found a hole in the hedge. He put in his nose, and then his neck, and then part of his body, when a sharp thorn give him a prick on the breast that covered it with blood. He pushed it aside, and went further in, when many thorns pricked his face, and his back, and his feet, and made his eyes almost blind. He ought to have gone back, but he saw a place where the hedge seemed thinner, and he pushed towards it. It was hard work; the wool on his back was torn, and he was hurt all over; but at last he got through the hedge to the other side. He now seemed glad, and rested on the grass, and heard the birds sing, and looked 

The lamb sees a storm brewing.

round and saw what a wide country there was all around, where he could rove about from place to place.

      The little lamb then rose, and went into the broad way: he found that it led into many other paths, and he ran on into one and another, and into a great many more paths. He seemed glad for a time, but as the sun was setting he wanted to get back again to the field,

Where flowers blow, and streams flow.

So he tried to find his way back again, but the more he went from one path to another he seemed to get further and further away. He was quite lost, lost. He then lay down under a tree, for he was very tired, and oh! how he wished that he had never gone astray! Then it began to get dark. The clouds were very heavy, and the rain fell fast, and a great storm came on. The lightening began to flash, and the thunder to roar, and the limbs of the little lamb shook with fear. The tree under which he lay was struck by the lightning: 

he was only just able to run away before it came down upon the place where he had rested. Some of the branches fell on his back as he was going away, and gave him great pain.

     The little lamb now ran into a thick wood, and tried to find shelter there. The night soon came on; not a star was to be seen; all was dark, dark. The lamb was cold and wet, hungry and weak. He knew not where to go or what to do.

      In the dark night the little lamb heard the cries of wild beasts. Then a great lion roared aloud, and came nearer and nearer. He saw the little lamb and soon came near to him. Oh! how did he shake with fear! He rose and tried to run away, the lion was about to spring on him, when, lo! the little lamb fell down into a deep and narrow pit. The lion stood over the pit and roared and lashed his tail. The lamb fell to the bottom of the pit, among thorns, and mud, and creeping things. Oh! how did he suffer! His wool was torn and dirty, his body was full of pain, and the lion was

near him. There the lamb lay, and his cries became more and more faint, and he seemed ready to die.

      While the lamb was going astray, the kind Shepherd, on walking round the field, missed him. He saw the foot-marks, and found the hole in the hedge, and some of the wool left there, and knew the sad state of his little lamb. He then took his crook in one hand, and a lamp in the other, and went after the lost one. When he came into the dark wood he stopped, for he heard the faint cries of the little lamb. He then ran to the pit. The lion saw him and his lamp, and turned round an ran  away, for he was afraid of the Shepherd. The cries of the little lamb had almost died away when the Shepherd came near. By the light of his lamp he saw the lamb, and spoke kindly to him. Then with his rod and with his crook he drew the little lamb out of the dirty pit.

      The kind Shepherd then took the little lamb, and washed him quite clean, and put oil on his wounds, and bound them up, and took him up in his arms and carried him in his bosom. Oh! how happy was the little lamb now! When he heard the lion and the wild beasts roar, he clung

the closer and closer to the arm and the heart of the kind Shepherd, who bore him back to the field,

Where flowers blow, and streams flow.

      Now the little lamb no more wished to go astray. He loved to keep near the Good Shepherd, and was safe and happy in his fold.

* * * *

      When the kind friend who had thus spoke to the children had done, he and they had a great deal to say to each other. He first of all asked them "Who is like the little lamb?" Several said, "We are sir." He stopped as if he wanted some other answer, when at last a little girl added, "I am sir." He then said, "That is right, every one should feel that he or she has gone astray like the little lamb." Then he taught them, a line at a time, to say this text after him:

"All we like sheep have gone astray;

We have turned every one to his own way;

And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all."

      "Yes," said he, "Jesus Christ bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that is, the cross. Oh! how we ought to love Him who saw us going astray, and came to seek and to save the lost."

      Then they talked about the naughty ways of the little lamb. How he wanted to get out of the field. How he would not go back when the thorns pricked him; like children, who know what is right and do what is wrong. And of the lion, and the text which says, that Satan, "as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour." And of the cries of the little lamb, and how the kind Shepherd was so quick to hear him, and how the true Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, is always ready to hear all who pray to Him.

Satan, "as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."

      Then their friend asked who was like the kind Shepherd, when many little tongues said, "Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd." "Yes," he said "you are quite right; and now say these words again after me.

"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd;

He shall gather the lambs with his arm,

And carry them in his bosom." --Isaiah 40:11

      The little orphans said these words over and over again. Then their kind friend said, "Yes, my dear children, Jesus is the Good Shepherd; and you all know how he took little children in His arms, and put His hands on them, and blessed them. And He is now ready to bless you, my dears. He is as kind now, He is in heaven as when on earth. And let us never forget that Jesus Christ said, "I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd giveth His life

The Good Shepherd carries his lost little lamb.

for the sheep," John 10: 11. And He did give up His life on the cross to save us. We must believe on Him, love Him, and obey Him.

      "Now let me add, that Christ, after He had died for us and rose again, and before He went back to heaven, said unto Peter, "Feed my lambs." Oh! how kind He was! Oh! how kind He is! How we should love Him!

      "Now, my dear children. I have been trying to feed you little lambs before me, and to lead you into green pastures and beside the still waters, so I hope you will all try to think of what I have said and taught you from the Bible."

      It was past school-time, and play-time was come, but the dear little children wanted their friend to stay longer: he did so; and they had much to say to one another. As he left the room, the eyes and faces of the little ones seemed to say, "We hope, sir, you will come to see us again.   

Jesus welcomes the little children.

The 

Green Pastures.

"The Lord is my Shepherd;

I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul;

He leadeth me in the paths of righteouness for

His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the

shadow of death.

I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me;

Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."     

The Little Lamb.

O Lord, our Shepherd, deign to keep

Thy little lambs, Thy feeble sheep,

And when our feet would go astry,

Uphold the guide us in Thy way.

Our Shepherd Jesus, kindly gave

His precious life, the flock to save:

Oh may we hear and know His voice,

Ans in His love alone rejoice.

When faint and trembling with alarms,

Oh gather us within thine arms:

Kind Shepherd, on They gracious breast

The weakest lamb may safely rest.

Lead us to pastures rich and green.

Where Thy free bounties most are seen;   

There may Thy gentle waters roll,

To cheer and save the fainting soul.

Thus blest, though we should walk the vale

Where death's deep shadows will prevail,

We shall our heavenly Shepherd see,

His rod and staff our comfort be.

Surely Thy goodness and our praise

Shall fill up all our fading days;

Then dying, gather us above

              To Thy own fold, the heaven of love.