PUT the pretty book away 

That your hand is tearing; 

Let mamma see the sorry look 

Your baby face is wearing.

It is not the book alone,

Your little hand is tearing, 

But your own heart's baby peace,

And its quiet feeling.

Go at once to mamma, then, 

She'll drive from off thy cheek

The shadow that is lurking there; 

Her voice will comfort speak.

Turn, then, from the wrong away;

Doing what is right 

Makes us happier, day by day,

Keeps us In God's light.

   V. A. M.