I hastened to mother’s protecting arms,
And asked if a poor girl must be on guard,
Who claims neither beauty, nor loving charms,
And whose dress cost only five cents a yard.
“I’ll tell you, my dear, for I understand,
Why that bold bad man set your head awhirl.
He saw that poverty held you in hand,
And you were only a poor working girl.”
“But tell me, mother, have the poor no rights,
Must one be rich to command respect?
Our minister tells us that God delights,
In the honest and poor of ev’ry sect.”
“I know, my dear, what the ministers preach,
But I state the fact so well as I can,
Tho Christ has proclaimed what his priests shall teach,
They have not overcome the sin in man.
“Some men are good as they know how to be,
While others repel life’s chastening rod,
The rich meet temptations we never see,
The good honest poor are nearest to God.”
Thanks, my dear mother, your life is my guide,
I will work night and day just as you do,
When temptation comes I’ll thrust it aside,
Grow nearer to God and nearer to you.
When my work in this life has all been done,
I will wend my way to the gates of pearl,
And present this plea to the Holy One:
“Dear Lord, I am only a working girl.”
THE WAYWARD GIRL.
Suggested by reading the testimony of the severe whippings given with the “cat o’ eight tails” in the Industrial School for Girls at Adrian, Michigan. Written May, 1899.