As she grieved thus once, the little sister sleeping beside her stirred and told her of a sweet, strange dream she had had.

She thought her sister was sitting sad because the King had bidden each one to bring him a gift.
"And in my dream I saw you there, And heard you say, 'No hands can bear A gift, that are so filled with care.' "What care ?' the King said, and he smiled To hear you answer, wailing wild, 'I only toil to feed a child.' "And then with such a look divine ('Twas that awaked me with its shine), He whispered, 'But the child is mine.'" There are many for whom this little story-poem should have sweet comfort.

There are fathers and mothers who find it hard to provide for their children.

It takes all their time and strength, and sometimes they say, "I cannot do any work for Christ, because it takes every moment to earn bread and clothing for my little ones, and to care for them." But Jesus whispers, "Yes; yet your children are mine, and what you do for them you do for me." There is in a home an invalid who requires all the time and thought of another member of the household in loving attention.

It may be an aged parent needing the help of a child; it may be a child, crippled, blind, or sick, needing all a parent's care; or it may be a brother broken in health on whom a sister is called to wait continually with patient love.