A STORY. 



TEACHER'S EDITION. 



Down in a garden olden, 

 Just where I do not know, 



A buttercup all golden 



Chanced near a rose to grow, 

 Chanced near a rose to grow, 



And every morning early, 

 Before all birds were up, 



A tiny dewdrop pearly, 

 Fell in this dainty cup. 



This was the drink of water 

 Sipped by the rose each day, 



But no one yet has caught her, 

 Drinking in such a way, 

 Drinking in such a way, 



Of course it is not treason 

 To say that thus she sips, 



And that is just the reason 

 She has such dewy lips. 



THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD. 



XII. 



The Lord is my shepherd, No want shall I know; 

 I walk in green pastures, Safe folded I rest ; 

 He leadeth my feet Where the still waters flow, 

 Restores me when wand'ring, Redeems when oppressed; 

 Restores me when wand'ring, Redeems, when oppressed. 



Let goodness and .mercy, My bountiful Lord, 



Still follow my steps Till I meet thee above; 



I seek by the path Which my forefathers trod 



Thro' the land of their sojourn, Thy kingdom of love; 



Thro' the land of their sojourn, Thy kingdom of love. 



