Great Western Hotel, Liverpool, June 9, 1880.
[TO A CHILD
SINGING "JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW."]
| Sing, little darling, sing, And may thy song be everlasting! Not all the learning wits and sages boast Can equal the sweet burden of thy song;— Can yield such rest amid life's noisiest strife;— Such peace to still the spirit's wildest wars;— Such hope to stem the most tumultuous wave May threat to overwhelm. The love of Jesus,— Sweet, having this thou risest far above All this world's clouds, and catchest glimpse of Heaven. Did He who blest That infant band that crowded round His knee, See, in a face like thine, a tender memory Of that dear home He left for our sakes? It may be; nay, it must: "Of such," He said, "My Father's kingdom." And His great heart Went out in fondest tones: His soft embrace Encircling such as thou, thrilled out that love That vibrates yet, and still enfolds so warm His tender lambs. Sing, little darling, sing, And may thy song be everlasting. |
[HOME.]
| The morning sun shone soft and bright, The air was pure and clear, My steady steps fell quick and light, Nor knew my soul a fear. For though the way was long and cold, The end I knew not where, Hope's vivid pictures made me bold To wait, or do, or dare. But ah, the change when evening gray Curtained a cloudy sky, And languid, I retraced the way My feet could scarce descry! By rugged care my heart was bruised, Hope's rainbow tints were gone; To this world's watch and ward unused, I could but stumble on. The rough wind's breath, the dark sky's frown Fell like the stroke of wrath, When—from above a star looked down— A ray beamed on my path. The light of Home—oh, blessed light— To weary wanderers dear! The light of Heaven, oh, glorious light To souls that stumble here! What matters now the weary road, My toil shall soon be o'er; And, oh, at last, at home with God Life's cares shall cark no more. Be this my hope! Be this my aim! Though rough the road may be, Thy feet, blest Jesus, trod the same, And I would follow Thee. |