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I spake of the Saviour, whose tender voice
Caused the infants around him to rejoice;
Who took them in his arms, and blest,
And held them to his pitying breast;
As I spoke,the mother's tears flowed free,
And the boy was on his father's knee.
Caused the infants around him to rejoice;
Who took them in his arms, and blest,
And held them to his pitying breast;
As I spoke,the mother's tears flowed free,
And the boy was on his father's knee.
I spoke of a holier and better clime,
Of the high results of our mortal time,—
Of the trust in immortal spirits given,
To lead them to virtue, and to heaven;
And I saw another young boy stand,
With the Bible clasped in a willing hand.
Of the high results of our mortal time,—
Of the trust in immortal spirits given,
To lead them to virtue, and to heaven;
And I saw another young boy stand,
With the Bible clasped in a willing hand.
And I wished my lips had been touched with fire,
Or with music like that from Isaiah's lyre,
To win the souls of those who turned
To me, as their own within them burned;
And a deep and a fervent prayer was mine,—
Father! grant that these too be thine!
Or with music like that from Isaiah's lyre,
To win the souls of those who turned
To me, as their own within them burned;
And a deep and a fervent prayer was mine,—
Father! grant that these too be thine!
A sigh from a distant comer rose,
Where stretched for rest, but not repose,
With the hectic glow upon his cheek,
Which leaned on a wasted arm and weak,
Lay a dying boy; for me he cried,
And I sat down gently at his side.
Where stretched for rest, but not repose,
With the hectic glow upon his cheek,
Which leaned on a wasted arm and weak,
Lay a dying boy; for me he cried,
And I sat down gently at his side.
