Take heed, my heart.
Be lowly. So
Thou seest him lie in manger
low:
That is the baby sweet and
mild;
That is the little Jesus-child.
Ah, Lord! the maker of us
all!
How hast thou grown so poor
and small,
That there thou liest on withered
grass—
The supper of the ox and ass?
Were the world wider many-fold,
And decked with gems and cloth
of gold,
’Twere far too mean
and narrow all,
To make for Thee a cradle
small.
Rough hay, and linen not too
fine,
The silk and velvet that are
thine;
Yet, as they were thy kingdom
great,
Thou liest in them in royal
state.
And this, all this, hath pleased
Thee,
That Thou mightst bring this
truth to me:
That all earth’s good,
in one combined,
Is nothing to Thy mighty mind.
Ah, little Jesus! lay thy
head
Down in a soft, white, little
bed,
That waits Thee in this heart
of mine,
And then this heart is always
Thine.
Such gladness in my heart
would make
Me dance and sing for Thy
sweet sake.
Glory to God in highest heaven,
For He his son to us hath
given!
The new doctor.
Next forenoon, wishing to have a little private talk
with my friend, I went to his room, and found him
busy writing to Dr. Wade. He consulted me on
the contents of the letter, and I was heartily pleased
with the kind way in which he communicated to the
old gentleman the resolution he had come to, of trying
whether another medical man might not be more fortunate
in his attempt to treat the illness of his daughter.
“I fear Dr. Wade will be offended, say what
I like,” said he.
“It is quite possible to be too much afraid
of giving offence,” I said; “But nothing
can be more gentle and friendly than the way in which
you have communicated the necessity.”
“Well, it is a great comfort you think so.
Will you go with me to call on Mr. Armstrong?”
“With much pleasure,” I answered; and
we set out at once.
Shown into the doctor’s dining-room, I took
a glance at the books lying about. I always take
advantage of such an opportunity of gaining immediate
insight into character. Let me see a man’s
book-shelves, especially if they are not extensive,
and I fancy I know at once, in some measure, what
sort of a man the owner is. One small bookcase
in a recess of the room seemed to contain all the
non-professional library of Mr. Armstrong. I
am not going to say here what books they were, or
what books I like to see; but I was greatly encouraged
by the consultation of the auguries afforded by the
backs of these. I was still busy with them, when
the door opened, and the doctor entered. He was
the same man whom I had seen in church looking at Adela.
He advanced in a frank manly way to the colonel, and
