But, while we wish the year’s return,
While for the past our spirits yearn,
A cheerful voice exclaims:
“He who would reach sublimest height
Must toil by day, and pray by night,
And struggle with the tide—
Now is the time to carve your fate!
Time never lags, though man be late—
Lost days will ne’er return.”
MOTHER’S PRAYER
While my darling child is sleeping
In her little bed,
Mother’s earnest prayer is heaping
Blessings on her head.
First she prays that God will teach her,
How to worthy be
Of so sweet a child to love her;
Then, to clearly see,
Duties of her noble calling—
That, as days go by,
She may help that soul develop
All that’s pure and high.
“Make my little darling happy,”
Fondly mother prays;
Happy as the birds and blossoms
Through the summer days.
May God keep her sweet and loving,
Strong to battle sin,
And, as now she trust in mother,
May she trust in Him!