Tárogató, 1950 (13. évfolyam, 1-6. szám)
1950-11-01 / 5. szám
TÁROGATÓ 13 OUR ENGLISH SECTION. CHRIST HAD COMPASSION By Dorothy Safford Christ had compassion! All his earthly days Were spent with men; he walked their earthly ways. He talked with them at work, beside the sea, On dusty roads, wherever men might be. He supped with them and shared their simple fare And every home was blessed when Christ was there. Christ had compassion! For he understood The hearts of men, the evil and the good, He knew their thoughts, their hopes, their doubts and fears, He shared their gladness, as he shared their fears. They felt his sympathy and swift they came From every walk in life, the blind, the lame. And whether sick in body, mind, or soul, He looked on each with love, and made them whole. Christ had compassion! Oh, dear Lord, may we So live from day to day that men may see That same compassion for each human need Working through us in thought, and word, and deed. So many need thy love! We need to find The joy that comes from simply being kind. THE FENCE FAMILY MOVES IN By Doris L. Edwards The four Posts stood across the hill in a straight line. Daddy, first—his hands joined to Pattie’s; Mummie next, joined to Peter on the right and Pattié on the left. They looked for all the world like a fence—their joined arms making the wires between the posts. “How do you like it?” Daddy’s voice was eager, but a bit anxious, too. “Love it!” said Mummie Post. “It’s swell, Dad,” said Peter. “I love it, and it’s swell! ” echoed Pattie, hopping up and down. “I’m glad.” Daddy Post sighed softly with relief, as he answered. “I wanted you to be pleased.” “Are there fish in the creek?” asked Peter, pointing to the thread of moving water below the hill. “No, but there’s a song in it and that’s better, I think. Listen!” said Dad. “Trickli-trickli-gurgli-gurgle!” sang the water. “Welcome! Glad you have come!” “I can hear it!” Peter’s voice was excited. “I think the creek is saying, ‘Welcome’ to us!” “Maybe,” said Daddy, “but it isn’t a creek, Chum. It’s a rill—Running Rill, I’ve been calling it.” “Lovely!” said Mummie. “Could we go down to it?” Pattie’s voice was coaxing. “We-1-11-” began Mummie, glancing uncertainly at the bags and boxes on the ground beside the car, waiting to be taken into the house and unpacked. “Just for a minute,” decided Daddy— and down they went. “Here we could make a barbeque,” he said again, as they stood by the Rill, “and have suppers and things.” “That would be nice,” Mummie responded, “but could you have an escalator installed, dear? I played crab comming down, and about all I can think of, now that I am down, is how am I going to crawl up?” They laughed merrily at Mummie, then Daddy said, “How about a stone stair down to this spot? I could make it of flat stones from Running Rill.” “And I could help,” Peter added. “Couldn’t I, Daddy?” Nodding assent, Daddy herded them up again, took a key out of his pocket, opened the front door and, as they stood in the hall a moment later, said with a flourish, “The Fence Family moves in!” Peter and Pattié frisked up the stairs, like two small squirrels, opening door, peeking into closets, glancing out win-
