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Show JUST FOLKS ! By EDO AH A GVteST. - THE CHOIR BOY They put his spotless surplice on And tied his flowing tie. And he was fair to look upon As ho went singing by; Fie sang the hymns with ccntle grace. ' That littlo lad of nine, For there was something In his face Which seemed almost divine. His downcast eye was good to see, His brow was smooth and fair. And no one dreamed that thr-re could be A rascal plotting there; Yet when all hads In prayer were bowed, God's gracious care to beg. The boy next to him cried aloud: "Quit pinching o' my leg"- A pioua littlo tyke ho seemed An angel born to sing, Beholding him none ever dreamed He'd do a naughty thing. Yet many a sudden "ouch:" proclaimed pro-claimed That he had smuggled In For mischief-making unashamed. A most disturbing pin And yet. I think, from high above The Father, looking down. Known everything he's thinking of And smiles when mortals frown. For In the epotless surplice white Which is his mother's Joy, He knows he's not an angel bright, But just a healthy bnv. (Copvrlght. by Edgar A. f Guest i |