A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY.
We had finished our pitiful morsel,
And both sat in silence a while;
At length we looked up at each other.
And I said, with the ghost of a smile,--
"Only two little potatoes
And a very small crust of bread--
And then?"--"God will care for us, Lucy!"
John, quietly answering, said.
"Yes, God _will_ provide for us, Lucy!"
He said, after musing a while--
I'd been quietly watching his features
With a feeble attempt at a smile--
"For, '_trust in the Lord, and do good_,'
Our Father in Heaven has said,
'_So shalt thou dwell in the land,
And verily thou shalt be fed!_'"
Scarcely the words had he spoken,
When a faint, little tap at the door
Surprised us,--for all the long morning
The rain had continued to pour.
I am sure I shall never remember
The pelting and pitiless rain
Of that desolate day in November,
Without a dull heart-throb of pain.
For work had grown scarcer and scarcer,
Till there seemed not a job to be done;
We had paid out our very last sixpence,
And of fuel and food we had none.
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