But blessings, like sunbeams in showers of gold,
Are drunk without praises by hearts dark and cold.
He sends them to tell us how kind is His care.
He sends them to tell us how thankless we are.
He sends them to beautify Life’s troubled stream;
O praise ye the Giver Who sendeth the beam.
[JEWEL OF THE CRADLE]
How fondly the heart of the mother is stirred,