LittleHattiesChair

Little Hattie's Chair

The day that little Hattie died

The house seemed strange and queer,

The furniture looked different

And everything was drear,

We children all would huddle close

Upon the steps and try,

To think of Heaven where she was

And then we all would cry.

Then Bobbie sneaked off by himself

And we hunted everywhere,

Till father found him in the yard

In little Hattie's chair.

He was hid behind the lilac bush

Where she would often play,

And, his face was streaked with tears

And he called, "Oh, keep away."

But, father kissed him on the head

And lifted chair and all,

And carried him into the house

And on up through the hall.

Until he reached the attic door

And, we kept followng too,

Because we wondered what it was

That he was going to do.

He got a hammer and a nail

And drove it way up high,

And said, "Now, children you may kiss

The little chair good-bye.

But, you must never take it down

And never sit on it".

And, there stood mother watching us...

And we all cried a bit.

One Saturday when Bobbie was

A tracking to its lair,

A wild beast of the forest,

He climbed the attic stair...

Quite softly in his stocking feet

And peeped in through the door,

And there by little Hattie's chair

Knelt mother on the floor.

"Oh, Jesus, spare the others...

And make them pure and good,

Help me to train them carefully

As a Christian mother should".

Then Bobbie tiptoed down the stairs

And told us what he'd heard,

And we looked at one another

But, didn't speak a word.

That evening after father came

And we got the song books out,

And took our turn in reading

A Bible verse about.

He said, he'd heard that we had been

So very good all day,

But, no one told him 'twas because

Bobbie heard mother pray.

Copyright - By: Grace W. Haight

Let us not be afraid to let our children see us pray. May we live before them so that they may see Christ in us. You can be assured it will make a difference in their lives.