MAMMA, If I were a woman, 

If I knew as much as you,

I would write a book," said Lillie, 

"And I'd write it good and true.

"I would make it just like talking, 

'As you talked to me last night, 

So that every one who read it 

Would love Jesus and do right."

"Every one, my love," said mamma, 

"Must at least open book compose; 

Each must write his own life-story 

From its dawning to the close.

"On a new, unwritten volume,

Pure and spotless to the sight,. 

Loving ones confer a title, 

Baby hands begin to write.

"All through babyhood and childhood, 

Youth, mid-life, and trembling age, 

Still those hands are writing, writing, 

Never lifting from the page.

Every word and every action, 

Rude or gentle, wrong or right,

In its ugliness or beauty,

Live upon those pages white.

Every deed of love and mercy 

Shines upon those leaflets fair,

And if one has loved the Saviour, 

All his love is written there.

"Just below the last word written,

Angel hands will trace, 'The End;' 

Angel hands will clasp the volume, 

And will bear it up to God."

Children's Friend.