Y child! beside thy little bedI sit with aching heart,And feel with mingled grief and dread,Perchance we soon must part:I gaze upon thy troubled sleep,Thy flushed and fevered brow;And though that sorrow cannot weep,I feel what none can know.
For oh! if God should please to takeThy sinless spirit now,Methinks this bursting heart would break,E'en while it strove to bow.And yet my inmost wish is stillTo feel His ways are best,—To bend me to His holy will,And bid each murmur rest.
But though in health I loved thee moreThan human tongue can tell,I never knew, till this sad hour,I loved thee half so well.Thy patient smiles, thy gentleness,But deeper wring my heart,And make me feel, with new distress,My Baby! must we part?
O God forbid! in hope I feelPerchance the worst is o'er,And thou mayest live to cheer us still,Bright, joyous as before.And may we strive to make that lifeThine endless blessing prove,Or, if thou must depart, believeThat thou art safe above!
Y child! beside thy little bed I sit with aching heart,And feel with mingled grief and dread, Perchance we soon must part:I gaze upon thy troubled sleep, Thy flushed and fevered brow;And though that sorrow cannot weep, I feel what none can know.
Y child! beside thy little bed I sit with aching heart,And feel with mingled grief and dread, Perchance we soon must part:I gaze upon thy troubled sleep, Thy flushed and fevered brow;And though that sorrow cannot weep, I feel what none can know.