THE BABE’S MISSION.
Upon its mother’s breast a babe lay sleeping;
While tears of bitter anguish she was weeping;
The while her lonely vigil she was keeping.
’Twas but a few brief years, since she a youthful bride,
Had pledged her troth to one, who, at the altar side,
Promised to love and cherish, till death should divide.
Alas! how had that vow been kept?
She asked, then bowed her head and wept
Meanwhile upon her breast her infant slept.
Fiercely the storm was raging; and the rain
With dismal sound beat ’gainst the window pane,
The mother bent her listening ear in vain.
No sound save of the storm greeted her ear;
Not one familiar footstep could she hear,
To tell her he for whom she wept was near.
From out the tower the solemn midnight bell,
Fell on her ear like a deep funeral knell;
And at the sound, faster the tear-drops fell.
“O, God,” she cried, while thus her tears did flow,
“How can I bear this heavy weight of woe?
Shall I no more sweet peace and comfort know?”
While thus the mother prayed in accents wild,
The babe upon her breast looked up and smiled;
The shadows vanished as she kissed her child.
She raised her tearful eyes above
And said, “Father, I thank thee for this little dove;
I’ve something yet to live for, and to love.”