Poems (Curwen)/God's Gift

by Annie Isabel Curwen

God's Gift.

The Angel of Life, as he passed our way,
Paused at my door at the break of day,
  And found me sore distressed;
And for comfort left a little child,
Then Pain and I were reconciled
  As the babe clung to my breast.
"'Tis my Lord's gift," the Angel said,
And, departing, left me comforted.

O swift transition from the dark abyss
Of misery to heights of purest bliss!
 O rapture born of pain!
Mine eyes with grateful tears were dim,
My trembling lips were fain to hymn
 A glad thanksgiving strain,
So full was my fond heart with joy
As my arms encircled my baby boy.

And as I close and closer pressed
The dear wee face to my throbbing breast,
 I cried: "Dear Heaven this—
This last most precious gift of Thine—
This new life given to me and mine—
 Sweet compensation is
For all the weary days and hours
I've spent in suffering's dreary bowers."

O baby mine! O little innocent!
Whom the great Lord of Life has sent
 From mystic babyland;
O little soul! so pure and white,
Spark from the one great Source of Light
 Lit by Divine command:
God keep thee without spot or stain
Till He recalls thee Home again!