In the babe, long ere it smiled?
And this plea, like a rainbow, in the eye
Of the trusting, yearning child?
May the God of heaven pity us all!
But pity the children now!
Let us kiss the spot hurt in each fall
And smooth the troubled brow;
For how shall we, as a little child,
Win back a place in heaven,
If the child is robbed, long ere it smiled