Benediction
“I know not how he chose you from the crowd, came to your door, and grasp your hand to ask his way.”—Rabindranath Tagore.
You may not question why he chose you
From so many more—
Why his tiny hands have fumbled
At your door.
To a land of fifty cross-roads
He has come to-day,
Placed his eager hands in yours,
And asked his way.
He will follow where you lead him—
Bright and stormy skies;
And at evening still beside you
Close his eyes.
Keep his trust, O You the Chosen—
Far shall be his way.
Clasp him to your heart and bless him
With all you may.