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TO A BABE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


158

TO A BABE.

Precious baby, rest thee here,
Nestle thus about my heart:
Child, devoid of guilt and fear,
What a mystery thou art!
'Tis a pleasure, little one,
On thy sinless brow to look;
Life to do, and nothing done—
Nothing written in thy book!
Link art thou 'twixt me and heaven;
Blessed ministry is thine;
Unto thee a power is given
To renew this heart of mine—
Childhood's fearless love renew—
Childhood's truth and holy trust;
And of youth bring back the dew,
Lift the spirit from the dust.
Mothers may not know on earth,
Half the deep and holy spell
Wrought by infant tears and mirth,
Meanings strange that few may tell.

159

Deeper grows the mother's eye
With its look of love and prayer—
Holiest duty, promptings high
Mingle with maternal care.
Careless thou as blossoms wild
Growing in the light of heaven;
Thou, a meek and trusting child,
Faith like theirs to thee is given:
And for thee I will not fear
In the perils that await—
Thought and will, the prayer, the tear,
Arm thee strong for any fate.