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"GOD KNOWS"
That night when the happy babies slept
So warm in the sheltered town.
Wrapped in the glow of the morning light,
It lay on the shifting sand,
As fair as a sculptor's marble dream,
With a shell in its dimpled hand.
So warm in the sheltered town.
Wrapped in the glow of the morning light,
It lay on the shifting sand,
As fair as a sculptor's marble dream,
With a shell in its dimpled hand.
There were none to tell of its race or kin.
"God knoweth," the pastor said,
When the wondering children asked of him
The name of the baby dead.
And so, when they laid it away at last
In the church-yard's hushed repose,
They raised a stone at the baby's head,
With the carven words, "God knows."
"God knoweth," the pastor said,
When the wondering children asked of him
The name of the baby dead.
And so, when they laid it away at last
In the church-yard's hushed repose,
They raised a stone at the baby's head,
With the carven words, "God knows."
