I know a funny little lad -
We call him careful Ben -
Who has among his many pets
A missionary hen.
"A missionary hen!" you say;
"What sort of fowl is that?"
Just listen, and you'll all agree
That she is called just right.
Now Benny went to Sunday school,
And there he heard them tell
About the children far away
Who hear no Sabbath bell;
Who never heard of Jesus' name
Nor how He came to earth,
And gave His life upon the cross
To save their souls from death.
He knew they had no pleasant homes,
No teachers kind and true
To tell them of a Saviour's love,
Or what they ought to do.
Ben's pocketbook was very lean,
The pennies there were few;
But Bennie's mother helped him out -
She gave him work to do.
He climbed the mow to hunt the eggs,
He crawled beneath the barn;
And his reward was one old hen
That he might call his own.
Dear me! the way that old hen laid
Was wonderful to view!
She seemed to know her business well,
And sought to mind it too.
She was a missionary hen,
For all her eggs he sold
For pennies for the mission box -
They were as good as gold.
Bennie's pennies now were never scarce
He did not have to beg;
For this old hen was like the goose
That laid the golden egg.
She raised a brood of ten fine chicks,
Ben drafted them all in
To swell the ranks and revenue,
Of his missionary hen.
What will you give?
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