A PLEA FOR THE LITTLE ONES by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL

IT was Easter Monday morning,
A dull and showery day;
We were sorry for the children
Who could not run and play.

I heard the sound of singing
As I passed along the street—
An unseen tiny chorus
Of tiny voices sweet

Beneath a sheltering doorway,
Safe from the April weather,
Eight happy little singers
Sat lovingly together.

Five crowding on the doorstep
Wiih arms entwined, and three
On broken stool or baby chair,
Close clustering knee to knee

They sang about the 'happy land,
So very 'far away,'
And happier faces never shone
In any game of play.

And then they sang it all again,
And gently rocked each other;
Then said the little leader,
'Now let us sing another!'

'Now @3I@1 will say a hymn to you!'
(Oh, the sixteen eyes were bright!)
So I said them 'Little Jessie,'
As they listened with delight.

JESSIE'S FRIEND

'Little Jessie, darling pet,
Do you want a Friend?
One who never will forget,
Loving to the end?

'One whom you can tell, when sad,
Everything that grieves,
One who loves to make you glad,
One who never leaves?

'Such a loving Friend is ours,
Near us all the day,
Helping us in lesson-hours,
Smiling on our play;

'Keeping us from doing wrong,
Guarding everywhere;
Listening to each happy song,
And each little prayer.

'Jessie, if you only knew
What He is to me,
Surely you would love Him too,
You would "come and see."

'Come, and you will find it true,
Happy you will be!
Jesus says, and says to you,
"Come, oh come, to Me."

'Now tell me who, if you can guess,
Was little Jessie's Friend?
Who is the Friend who loves so much,
And loveth to the end?'

I would that you had seen the smile
On every sunny face;
It made a palace of delight
Out of that dismal place,

As, reverently yet joyously,
They answered without fear,
'It's Jesus!' That beloved Name
Had never seemed more dear.

And then we talked awhile of Him—
They knew the story well;
His holy life, His precious death
Those rosy lips could tell.

All beautiful, and wonderful,
And sweet and true it seemed,
Such hold no fairy tale had gained
That ever fancy dreamed.

So, to be good and kind all day
These little children tried,
Because they knew @3He@1 was so good,
Because @3He@1 bled and died.

Blest knowledge! O what human lore
Can be compared with such!
'Who taught you this, dear little ones?
Where did you learn so much?'

Again the bright eyes cheerily
Looked up from step and stool;
They answered (mark the answer well!)
'@3We learnt it all at school!@1'

At school, at school! And shall we take
The Book of books away!
Withhold it from the little ones?
Leave them at will to stray—

Upon dark mountains, helplessly,
Without the guiding light
That God entrusts to @3us,@1 until
They perish in the night?

What was the world before that Book
Went forth in glorious might?
Availed the lore of Greece and Rome
To chase its Stygian night?

We send the messengers of life
To many a distant strand,
And shall we tie the tongues that teach
The poor of our own land?

Shall husks and chaff be freely given,
And not the Bread of Life?
And shall the Word of Peace become
A centre of mad strife?

Shall those who name the Name of Christ
His own great gift withhold?
Our Lamp, our Chart, our Sword, our Song,
Our Pearl, our most fine Gold!

@3Why@1 would ye have 'no Bible taught?'
Is it for @3fear?@1 or shame?
Out, out upon such coward hearts,
False to their Master's name!

If God be God, if truth be truth,
If Christian men be men,
Let them arise and fight the fight,
Though it were one to ten!

With battle-cry of valiant faith,
Let Britain's sons arise,—
'Our children @3shall@1 be taught the Word
That only maketh wise!'

So, dauntlessly, will we unfurl
Our banner bright and broad,
The cause of His dear Word of Life,
@3Our@1 cause, the Cause of God.

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