Birth of a Baby
Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
Something better than anyone knows.
Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherub's wings.
How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought of You, and so I am here.
George MacDonald
Fresh from the Gates of Heaven, our Father, this dear child has come, opening in our hearts springs of new and deeper affection. We thank Thee for this life whose coming has filled our lives with sunshine. Teach us how to live that we may guide it aright, so that as the years pass more and more sunlight shall be radiated. Even as Thine angels kissed the sweet rosebud lips and left a smile thereon, so may we kiss away the tears of life. Heavenly Father, we consecrate this child to Thy service. We pray that the ears may learn to listen for Thy voice, speaking in truth and purity. May the tiny hands be ever ready to do a service of love and may the feet be swift to do Thy bidding. Tenderly guide this precious child, for it needs Thy guidance, and safely guard it through all the years, lest it go astray. This we ask in the name of Him who took little children in His arms and blessed them, saying—"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." Amen.
A Child's Birthday
A dreary place would be this earth,
Were there no little people in it:
The song of life would lose its mirth,
Were there no children to begin it:
No little forms, like buds to grow,
And make the admiring heart surrender:
No little hands on breast and brow,
To keep the thrilling love-chords tender.
The sterner souls would grow more stern,
Unfeeling nature more inhuman,
And man to stoic coldness turn,
And woman would be less than woman.
Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
Were there no babies to begin it;
A doleful place this world would be,
Were there no little people in it.
John Greenleaf Whittier.
Our dear Heavenly Father, Thou lookest upon us all as Thy children,—whether our hair be flaxen or brown or white with age. We thank Thee today for the children of our own household, for our children, and all the children, and especially do we thank Thee for the one whose birthday we celebrate here to-day. May Thy blessing be upon him (her), may the skies be bright over his (her) head,—may the birds sing to him (her). May the flowers blossom around his (her) pathway. Thro' all the journey of this life let him (her) have the guidance of Thy Father hand. Amen.