As I Near My Lonely Cottage, At The Close Of Weary Day, There'S A Little Bit Of Gladness Comes To Meet Me On The Way: Dimpled, Tanned, And Petticoated, Innocent As Angels Are, Like A Smiling, Straying Sunbeam Is My Stella - Like A Star. Soon A Hand Of Tissue-Softness Slips Confidingly In Mine, And With Tender Look Appealing Eyes Of Beauty Sweetly Shine; Like A Gentle Shepherd Guiding Some Lost Lamb Unto The Fold, So She Leads Me Homeward, Prattling Till Her Stories Are All Told. "Papa, I'm So Glad To See You - Cousin Mabel Came Today - And The Gas-Man Brought A Letter That He Said You'd Better Pay - Yes, And Awful Things Is Happened: My Poor Kitty'S Drowned To Death - Mamma'S Got The 'Pigs In Clover' - " Here She Stops For Want Of Breath. I Am Like The Bold Knight-Errant, From His Castle Who Would Roam, Trusting Her, My Faithful Steward, For A Strict Account Of Home; And Each Day I Toil, And Hazard All That Any Man May Dare, For A Resting-Place At Even, And The Love That Waits Me There. And Sometimes I Look With Pity On My Neighbor'S Mansion Tall: There Are Chambers Full Of Pictures, There Are Marbles In The Hall, Yet With All The Signs Of Splendor That May Gild A Pile Of Stone, Not A Living Thing About It But The Owner, Grim And Lone. I Believe That All His Millions He Would Give Without Repine For A Little Bit Of Gladness In His Life, Like That In Mine; This It Is That Makes My Pathway Beautiful, Wherever Trod, Keeps My Soul From Wreck And Ruin, Keeps Me Nearer To My God.