Coffin's Poems with Ajax' Ordeals

Children, when you read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children as lambs to his fold,
Wouldn't you liked to have been with him then?

Though you could not see His kind look when he spoke,
You can only read the story
You are greater today while under his yoke,
Than all of Solomon's glory.

Though before our time death frost came to lie
Upon his warm and mighty heart,
And it quenched His bold and tender eye,
His spirit did not all depart.

That spirit now from thousands of pens,
Is thrown upon the lucid page,
It's moving, it shakes the heart of men,
In this golden, yet sinful age.

It's showing the children how to go,
To witness a part of His love,
And if we will seek Him here below,
We will see Him and hear Him above.

167

He's gone away, only to prepare,
For those whose sins are forgiven,
And many children have gathered there,
For such is the kingdom of Heaven.

Come, look in my eyes little children,
And tell me through all the long day,
Have you thought of your God and your Savior,
Who keepeth from sin all your ways?

When you go to rest little children,
Right over your innocent sleep,
Unseen by your vision, His angels
Their watch through the darkness doth keep.

They heareth e'en the cry of the sparrows,
They careth for great and for small;
In life and in death, little children,
Their love is the truest of all.

Then we'll pray that the love which guideth,
The lambs that they loveth so well,
May lead you that in life's bright morning,
Beside the still waters you'll dwell.

Since there's a world that's beyond the grave,
And children are all hastening there;
While you are in your youthful strength,
Incline your dear hearts to prayer.

168

Put your trust not in this world, children,
Which has for you thousands of charms,
Though they catch the fancy a moment,
To the soul they all doeth harm.

We are faced by sinful influences,
But our Savior was crucified;
For your sins and my sins dear children,
He suffered, He languished, He died.

But He went and buried His sorrows,
Knowing that we all had our share;
And He opened a crystal fountain,
And bid children enter there.

You children were made for life's battle,
And God's sword is girt on your thigh;
And the purpose of God is overthrown,
If you only linger and sigh.

For our lives are coinages of heaven,
To be spent in a coinage of love;
'Till all the realms of earth below,
Are as pure as the realms above.

We are strangers, we are pilgrims,
But Christ our eternal brother,
Whispers from out His blood-bought throne,
“Little children, love one another.”

169

I wish that your thoughts so heavenly were,
And your hearts to Christ so given;
That all our toils, our love, our care,
Might lead us nearer to heaven.

Were it in my power dear children,
To set all of sin's pinions free;
Your paths should be paved more smoothly,
Throughout time to eternity.

Let us all try-daily to forge a key,
To open the gates of heaven,
If we make that key the hearts of men,
The bolt will be backward driven.

University of Virginia Library

Children's Day.

I John, 4:4.