OUR sister Polly linger'd
Before she went to school,
And stood awhile and finger'd
A bright and shiny tool.
And in the room you're peeping,
Just through the open door,
Why, little Polly's weeping—
A chisel's on the floor.
But there is dear old David,
Who's always good and kind,
For on his face engraved
You loving-kindness find.
He sees our sister's folly
In meddling with his things,
But soothes and kisses Polly,
And then some rag he brings.
Her face with sorrow laden,
He brightens with a kiss,
"'Twill now, my little maiden,
Be better after this."
But Polly knows that Jesus
Hears every little prayer,
And that He loves to ease us
In sorrow, pain, or care.