The Bible Story
Chapter 73 : I hear the robins sing. The flowers have come. I will go to my garden and pick the rose

I hear the robins sing.

The flowers have come.

I will go to my garden and pick the roses and the lilies.

The sun s.h.i.+nes brightly.

I love the warm sun.

The bees hum in the garden.

The woods are cool.

I love the cool woods.

Who gives us the warm summer days?

G.o.d gives us the summer days.

"Thou hast made summer and winter."--_Psalms 74:17_.

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THE AUTUMN WOODS

"The autumn-time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines, The low sun fainter s.h.i.+nes.

The aster-flower is failing, The hazel's gold is paling; Yet overhead more near The eternal stars appear!"

--_John Greenleaf Whittier_ [End ill.u.s.tration]

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autumn frosty yellow large

peaches moon with nuts

gather crack fire before

This is autumn.

The summer has gone.

The nights are frosty.

The days are cool.

The trees are red and yellow.

The leaves are falling from the trees.

Soon the snow will come.

The moon is large in the sky.

It looks like a great yellow ball.

The stars s.h.i.+ne brightly.

I love to see the moon and the stars.

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I love the large red apples.

Have you apples in your garden?

I love the peaches and the pears.

I go with my father to the woods, and gather nuts.

I will crack the nuts on the frosty nights, and eat them before the fire.

G.o.d made the apples, and nuts, and peaches, and pears.

I will thank G.o.d for his goodness.

"Thou crownest the year with thy goodness."--_Psalms 65:11_.

"The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord."--_Psalms 33:5_.

"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof."--_Psalms 24:1_.

"The pastures are clothed with flocks: the valleys also are covered over with grain."--_Psalms 65:18_.

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WINTER

"Leafless are the trees; their purple branches Spread themselves abroad, like reefs of coral, Rising silent In the Red Sea of the winter sunset."

--_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

"A chill no coat, however stout, Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snowstorm told."

--_John Greenleaf Whittier_ [End ill.u.s.tration]