A LITTLE lad was keeping his sheep one Sabbath morning. The bells were ringing for church, and the people were going over the field, when the little fellow began to think that he too would like to pray to God. He had never learned a prayer. So he knelt down and commenced the alphabet—A, B, C, and so on to Z. A gentleman happened to pass on the other side of the hedge, heard the lad's voice, and looking through the bushes, saw the little fellow kneeling, with folded hands and closed eyes, saying, “A, B, C.” “What are you doing, my little man?” The lad looked up, “Please, sir, I was praying.” “But what are you saying your letters for?” “Why, I didn't know any prayer, only I felt that I wanted God to take care of me and help me to take care of the sheep; so I thought that if I said all I knew, He would put it together and spell all I want.” “Bless your heart, my little man; He will, He will, He will. When the heart speaks right, the lips can't say wrong.”—Our Sunday Afternoon.