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a visit to the bee's cot.
The voices of feathered songsters
Came up from the grounds below,
Where the butterflies were flitting
In the sunshine, too and fro.
Came up from the grounds below,
Where the butterflies were flitting
In the sunshine, too and fro.
And my heart went out in pity
To the child whose wistful eyes
Were gazing out through the window
At the beautiful smiling skies;
To the child whose wistful eyes
Were gazing out through the window
At the beautiful smiling skies;
And I thought while sitting near her,
Holding her wasted wee hand,
Of pastures green and fadeless flow'rs,
Away in the Better Land:
Holding her wasted wee hand,
Of pastures green and fadeless flow'rs,
Away in the Better Land:
Thought of that wonderful city,
With its streets of shining gold,
And I half wished "Gentle Jesus"
Might convey her to His fold.
With its streets of shining gold,
And I half wished "Gentle Jesus"
Might convey her to His fold.
But Lizzie must wait the Father's time,
She must live and suffer too;
And while she's here, remember, dears,
She's dependent upon you.
She must live and suffer too;
And while she's here, remember, dears,
She's dependent upon you.
Think what a blessed privilege
Is yours, and your good Queen Bee's,
To do this holy work for God:
Heav'n widen your sympathies.
Is yours, and your good Queen Bee's,
To do this holy work for God:
Heav'n widen your sympathies.
Toil on, O busy bees, toil on,
And your reward will be,
When Christ shall say, "What ye have done
For her, was done to Me."
And your reward will be,
When Christ shall say, "What ye have done
For her, was done to Me."
