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My Firstborn! I could almost weep,
To watch thy peaceful slumber now,
And think how soon the world may steep
With grief and pain that calm, fair brow.
Oh! chequered must thy pathway be;
For woman's lot, my child, is thine;
And all life's brightest joys, to thee,
With mingling tears at least must shine.
To watch thy peaceful slumber now,
And think how soon the world may steep
With grief and pain that calm, fair brow.
Oh! chequered must thy pathway be;
For woman's lot, my child, is thine;
And all life's brightest joys, to thee,
With mingling tears at least must shine.
My Firstborn! 'tis thy mother's part
To watch thy being's opening day,—
To train aright thy guileless heart,
And ceaselessly for thee to pray.
And oh! may He who gave thee breath
Be still thy guide, thy strength, thy shield,
And make thee His in life and death,
My opening Flower! my Firstborn Child!
To watch thy being's opening day,—
To train aright thy guileless heart,
And ceaselessly for thee to pray.
And oh! may He who gave thee breath
Be still thy guide, thy strength, thy shield,
And make thee His in life and death,
My opening Flower! my Firstborn Child!
E.
July 31, 1838.
