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The WavesThe little waves ran up the sand, All rippling, bright and gay.But they were little robbers, For they stole the sand away,And when they'd tossed it all about, They piled it in the bay.One day, there came a clever man; He walked along the shore,And when he saw the crested waves Creep higher than before,Said he,"I'll build a harbor wall, And you'll come here no more."So then he started working; Stone after stone he brought.The little waves beat at the wall; By day and night they fought,Their white hair streaming in the wind, Their manner quite distraught.But when the wall was finished, Like other of their ilk,They tiptoed round the harbor As sleek and smooth as silk,And purred around the fishing boats, Like kittens lapping milk.
A Priceless Giftby Helen Steiner Rice Friendship is a priceless giftThat can't be bought or sold,But its value is far greaterThan a mountain made of gold. For gold is cold and lifeless,It cannot see nor hear,And in your times of trouble,It is powerless to cheer. It has no ears to listen,No heart to understand.It cannot bring you comfortOr reach out a helping hand. So when you ask God for a gift,Be thankful that he sends,Not diamonds, pearls, or riches,But the love of a real, true friend.
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