Poems (Hornblower)/Baptism
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BAPTISM.
The mother stands in the sacred aisle,
And she looks on her child with a trembling smile:
That smile is mingled with many a fear,
And scarce can she check a rising tear;
In a world which is full of care and strife,
Do her dreams now picture his future life.
And she looks on her child with a trembling smile:
That smile is mingled with many a fear,
And scarce can she check a rising tear;
In a world which is full of care and strife,
Do her dreams now picture his future life.
She has brought her babe—she has brought it there,
Where so oft for him she has breathed the prayer;
She has brought him—an offering to her God,
On the spot where her own fond steps have trod;
And that early love is mingling now
With a Christian's hope, on her kindling brow.
Where so oft for him she has breathed the prayer;
She has brought him—an offering to her God,
On the spot where her own fond steps have trod;
And that early love is mingling now
With a Christian's hope, on her kindling brow.
She turns her gaze to that helpless one,
Upon her for love and protection thrown;
And its feebleness causes the tear to start,
And she presses him closer to her heart;
And to the fount she draws nearer still,
As a pledge she will shield him from every ill.
Upon her for love and protection thrown;
And its feebleness causes the tear to start,
And she presses him closer to her heart;
And to the fount she draws nearer still,
As a pledge she will shield him from every ill.
The holy words on the air arise,
And hushed are that mother's anxious sighs;
Her thoughts are filled with a deeper faith,
As she turns to hear what the preacher saith;
And every doubt has vanished away,
As in fervent trust she kneels down to pray.
And hushed are that mother's anxious sighs;
Her thoughts are filled with a deeper faith,
As she turns to hear what the preacher saith;
And every doubt has vanished away,
As in fervent trust she kneels down to pray.
Her child and his fate—oh! what does it seem,
Now, in that holier and sweeter dream?
What loftier destinies are given,
That feeble thing is the heir of heaven;
And a mind, with powers and talents sublime,
Is given to her training—for more than time.
Now, in that holier and sweeter dream?
What loftier destinies are given,
That feeble thing is the heir of heaven;
And a mind, with powers and talents sublime,
Is given to her training—for more than time.
Oh! as she hears of immortal doom,
How changes upon her cheek the bloom;
How earnest her prayer to Him who gave,
For aid to help her, to succour and save;
What a sacred trust she feels is hers,
What a deathless hope in her bosom stirs!
How changes upon her cheek the bloom;
How earnest her prayer to Him who gave,
For aid to help her, to succour and save;
What a sacred trust she feels is hers,
What a deathless hope in her bosom stirs!
It is over—her pledge is borne above,
And her lips have sealed that rite of love;
Her tears have attested her heart's deep vow,
And smiles of affection are round her now.
She has promised to give him a Christian's trust,
She has raised her thoughts from the things of dust.
And her lips have sealed that rite of love;
Her tears have attested her heart's deep vow,
And smiles of affection are round her now.
She has promised to give him a Christian's trust,
She has raised her thoughts from the things of dust.
It is over—but many and many a year
May return to that mother's heart the fear;
And as to the altar she now has turned,
Till the holier faith in her bosom burned,
So, through every mortal change and care,
Must her strength, her comfort, her peace, be prayer.
May return to that mother's heart the fear;
And as to the altar she now has turned,
Till the holier faith in her bosom burned,
So, through every mortal change and care,
Must her strength, her comfort, her peace, be prayer.