html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }MY little Sister, list to me,
O list to me awhile, I pray,
And I will tell what thoughts of thee
Have come into my mind to day.
I’ve seen the seedlings springing gay,
Nor flower nor fruit upon them found,
But if they’re sickly or decay,
Useless the culture of the ground.
Suppose the ground is Clara’s heart,
Good thoughts and wishes growing there;
Be diligent and do your part,
For tend’rer plants need greater care.
And never think you’re useless all,
Because your times to help are few,
For, though her youthful sphere is small,
Clara has more than she can do.
Good words, your flowers, must now around
Their perfume sweet begin to throw,
And fruit of blessed deeds be found
Among the fig-tree’s leaves to grow.