The Story Of Moses.

"Tell me a Sunday story,"
    A dear child said to me;
And I bent down and kissed her
    And placed her on my knee.

"Once, long ago, in countries
    Far, very far away,
Where the cold snow-storm never comes,
    And all is bright and gay,

"There lived a king, so cruel,
    He gave this stern command,
That all the little children
    Must die, throughout the land.

"But still there was one mother
    Who kept her baby dear,
And quickly hushed its crying,
    In silence and in fear;

"But when she could no longer
    Her precious baby hide,
She did not like to throw him
    Upon the rushing tide;

"And so a little basket
    She made, of rushes stout,
And plastered it with clay and pitch
    To keep the water out.

"Then in this basket-cradle
    She put the little child;
And quietly he floated down
    Among the rushes wild.

"Just then the king's own daughter
    Came to the water's edge,
And saw the basket floating
    Among the grass and sedge.

"She drew it from the water,
    And called the babe her own,
And kept him till to be a man
    That little boy had grown.

"And when you read the Bible,--
    Which you will learn to do,--
You'll see how great and good he was,
    And how God loved him, too."