Spider

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Spider, oh little spider, thou art smallBut who can ever make you fall?Eight spindly legs the Creator gaveTo reach the insects thou doth crave.
A web of silk thou doth spinTo catch the insects thou must win.On thy web thou doth waitFor an ignorant insect to take the bait.
To catch in thy web the wondrous flyWhen thou ties it, it shall die.Eat the fly thou shalt at nightWhen all others are out of sight.
All fear thy bitter biteWhen they see thee they get a fright.How thou art by many hatedBut in His goodness thou hath been created.





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