24
Think'st thou of this, my little child,
While life's young visions dance before thee,
And still thy little lot has smiled,
And God has held his banner o'er thee ?
O ! it is good that infant hearts
Should early link themselves with Heaven ;
That when earth's dream of hope departs,
May high and nobler hopes be given.
The world is new; the world is fair ;
This busy world's still bright to thee ;
Nor hast thou seen a shade of care,
Yet dim its morning radiancy.
But ah ! the hour of grief must come ;
Life's vernal bloom must soon be over ;
And thou wilt weep, in anguish dumb,
Its sad illusions to discover.
A parent carried to the tomb-
A heartless, selfish world will show
Here Happiness hath not its home,
And sin hath blighted all below.
But may'st thou find the Well of Peace ;
And deeply drink its heavenly waters ;
That sin in thee may wholly cease,
And Heaven may take thee 'mong its daughters.
O ! who while oft his eye is caught
By childhood's sweet and gentle face,
Can choose but pause, in prayerful thought,
Their endless destinies to trace ?
'Twas this that caus'd me stay thee so,
And press thy little hand in mine ;
God bless thee, child ! and make thee know
His grace, his peace, his love divine.
FINIS.
