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."