  Oh! always give to the baby’s mouth The things God made for food; The precious milk or the grape’s fresh juice, Things that the Lord calls “good.” Blind Folly searched through the east and west, Aye, searched from north to south, To find great drugs of healing power To put in the baby’s mouth. But they searched in vain! and day and night, Like flocks of birds, towards Heaven The babies went, for they could not stay Where the cruel drugs were given. And never put to the baby’s lips The food for the stronger made; Or you may weep with a broken heart By its cold bed in the glade. Feed it food for the babies made, And dress it warm and clean; Give it the purest air to breathe, Like the lilies fair, like the sweet June rose Then shall the baby grow; And the smile of Heaven like a halo rest On the angel lent below. Give it the love of a holy heart That plans for the life beyond; That mingles prayer with the daily work, And song with caresses fond; That sweet, glad song that forever lies In the heart as the years sweep on; And tells of the love God has for us, In the gift of His only Son. endpaper divider |
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