"Baa, baa, black sheep!

Have you any wool?

Yes, sir,—no, sir,—

Three bags full.

One for my master,

One for my dame,

And one for the little boy

That lives in the lane."

T is the same question as of old;

And still the doubter saith,

"Can any good be made to come

From out of Nazareth?"

No sheep so black in all the flock,—

No human heart so bare,—

But hath some warm and generous stock

Of kindliness to share.

It may be treasured secretly

For dear ones at the hearth;

Or be bestowed by stealth along

The by-ways of the earth;—

And though no searching eye may see,

Nor busy tongue may tell,

Perchance, where largest love is laid,

The Master knoweth well!