Grandfather.

HOW broad and deep was the fireplace old, And the great hearth-stone how wide! There was always room for the old man's chair By the cosy chimney side, And all the children that cared to crowd At his knee in the evening-tide.

Room for all of the homeless ones Who had nowhere else to go; They might bask at ease in the grateful warmth And sun in the cheerful glow, For Grandfather's heart was as wide and warm As the old fireplace, I know.

And he always found at his well-spread board Just room for another chair; There was always rest for another head On the pillow of his care; There was always place for another name In his trustful morning prayer.

Oh, crowded world with your jostling throngs! How narrow you grow, and small; How cold, like a shadow across the heart, Your selfishness seems to fall, When I think of that fireplace warm and wide, And the welcome awaiting all.