 | The poet's portfolio |  |
263
A BENEDICTION FOR A BABY.
What blessing shall I ask for thee,
In the sweet dawn of infancy?
—That, which our Saviour, at his birth,
Brought down with Him from heaven to earth.
In the sweet dawn of infancy?
—That, which our Saviour, at his birth,
Brought down with Him from heaven to earth.
What next, in childhood's April years
Of sunbeam-smiles and rainbow-tears?
—That, which in Him all eyes might trace,
To grow in wisdom and in grace.
Of sunbeam-smiles and rainbow-tears?
—That, which in Him all eyes might trace,
To grow in wisdom and in grace.
What in the wayward path of youth,
Where falsehood walks abroad as truth?
—By that good spirit to be led,
Which John saw resting on his head.
Where falsehood walks abroad as truth?
—By that good spirit to be led,
Which John saw resting on his head.
264
What, in temptation's wilderness,
When wants assail, and fears oppress?
—To wield like Him the Scripture-sword,
And vanquish Satan by “the word.”
When wants assail, and fears oppress?
—To wield like Him the Scripture-sword,
And vanquish Satan by “the word.”
What, in the labour, pain, and strife,
Combats and cares of daily life?
—In his cross-bearing steps to tread,
Who had not where to lay his head.
Combats and cares of daily life?
—In his cross-bearing steps to tread,
Who had not where to lay his head.
What, in the agony of heart,
When foes rush in, and friends depart?
—To pray like Him, the Holy One,
“Father, thy will, not mine, be done.”
When foes rush in, and friends depart?
—To pray like Him, the Holy One,
“Father, thy will, not mine, be done.”
What, in the bitterness of death,
When the last sigh cuts the last breath?
—Like Him your spirit to commend,
And up to paradise ascend.
When the last sigh cuts the last breath?
—Like Him your spirit to commend,
And up to paradise ascend.
265
What in the grave, and in that hour,
When even the grave shall lose its power?
—Like Him, your rest awhile to take;
Then at the trumpet's sound awake,
Him as He is in heaven to see,
And as He is, yourself to be.
When even the grave shall lose its power?
—Like Him, your rest awhile to take;
Then at the trumpet's sound awake,
Him as He is in heaven to see,
And as He is, yourself to be.
| The poet's portfolio | |