Chapter I

Slowly forth from the village church,--
The voice of the choristers hushed overhead,--
Came little Christel. She paused in the porch,
Pondering what the preacher had said.

_Even the youngest, humblest child
Something may do to please the Lord;_
"Now, what," thought she, and half-sadly smiled,
"Can I, so little and poor, afford?--

_"Never, never a day should pass,
Without some kindness, kindly shown,_
The preacher said"--Then down to the grass
A skylark dropped, like a brown-winged stone.

"Well, a day is before me now;
Yet, what," thought she, "can I do, if I try?
If an angel of God would show me how!
But silly am I, and the hours they fly."

Then the lark sprang singing up from the sod,
And the maiden thought, as he rose to the blue,
"He says he will carry my prayer to God;
But who would have thought the little lark knew?"