February, 1950 CCC CC LE aC Ce LE rE a Ca AL Cre Ca 0 a CAC Ca ET aa TEC EAL G0 ALAS PEAR AD ne Ea CARICA CALA IAL Yan nn eA b aC ACCA RALACAT No. 2 LL re Lr AL SE TTL Lv Lm Le LL | Daddy's Story Hour By James I. Robison “Oh, tell me a story, Daddy,” Was the ‘quest of my little girl, As onto my knee she scrambled And tossed from her face a curl. I wrapped my arms around her, And held her close to my breast As asked, “What tale would you rather I take from the old story chest?” “Oh, tell of the little children In the mission fields afar, Or when Jesus was a baby, Or the Wise Men's evening star.” So settling back in the arm chair In front of the evening blaze, With the glimmering light a shining On her curls and upturned face, I paused a moment in thinking, As from her dimpled lips Came a sigh of full contentment, As a bee when nectar it sips. Then with the key of memory I unlocked the old story chest, And chose from its rare old treasures The one she liked the best. I told of the long, long journey Of Joseph and Mary of old, All the way from Nazareth’s village To Bethlehem’s lone sheepfold, Of the coming of the Christ child, Of the Shepherds’ midnight song, Of the visit of the Wise Men, And of Egypt's flight so long. She had heard the same old story A dozen times or more, And all the other best ones, Kept in memory’s store. But to see her face all eager As the story unfolded anew, To feel the hug of a “thank you” As we bade little Jesus adieu; And to hear her whisper softly, “I love you, Daddy mine,” Was worth a thousand stories And all the wealth of time. Into the flickering firelight We gazed, our hearts as one, I saw the long, long pathway The little feet must run. And I thought of the snares and pitfalls, Unseen to carefree eyes, And prayed to the Friend of children To keep ever sure these ties To a home where love binds stronger Than all the attractions of sin, And to guide the feet of my darling With her father’s to enter in— To that better home over yonder, Where the Lover of children dear Will tell the same old story— May our children be there to hear. hr DES en Gn AE 0S Raph Aor EAS th Poh A DE SR 0 256 A Sr Gr EE G2 oe Se TP Ore A Ph 2 Sr SPS A Phe he Ha SCG AoE nd Dr Se GS Sr 0 2 AG Ge Gr Gr Se DR GE Sha oan Pe A 2 tA GR bd AE Bhd a 0a eS 2925 85 Pa ear S 2d a Pe 0 eee Se org — = Ti Te Tk VT ahem [aT | wh Le kc Ld [iY oT LT oT rt Tod Toi Te ke Th ToT Tk [ wh tT Tom bed Tok ak] Toke mbt Te Tle To Ts Tle Tos Tole ToL Tol ToT oe Jor |e avn me} ope [are [oT he eh kT Te Tod Te eT Toe Toe a Toa jw] 2] A CA CT EGE GE ee EE A EGC CC AE AC GA Ga GC TG FE GP CE SE SS SR Pe Ge Se Sa Da a 2h 2h 2 PS SR 2 2 2 rE D535 ET LTT Te Tel Tok To [i Tuk RL TT