His Saviour’s face!
MOTHER’S LITANY BY THE SICKBED OF A CHILD.
Saviour, that of woman born,
Mother-sorrow didst not scorn—
Thou, with whose last anguish strove
One dear thought of earthly love—
Hear and aid!
Low he lies, my precious child,
With his spirit wandering wild
From its gladsome tasks and play,