  When Mother Lamech’s baby boy In the bright hammock swung, And Grandpapa Methuselah Some cheery anthem sung, As baby Noah sucked his thumb, Or played with wee pink toes, He knew not of the flood to come With all its startling woes. And when he clapped to see the stars Peer through the heavens dark, He did not know his dimpled hands Would plan the precious Ark. He knew not that the baby voice Then learning “lullaby” Must yet be by the nations heard, Sent by the King on high; That he must preach the coming Christ, The Saviour yet to die, And men would scoff and hate his name And pass his warnings by; That violence in all the earth Would run its riot free, Until the storm and cyclone came,— And when the birds of morning sang The chorus of the groves, And baby Noah cooed and laughed To see the bright-winged doves, He knew not that on Ararat The other side the Flood, He would send forth a bird like that To bring him tidings good. So we, who shield our little ones And guide their baby feet, Know not the bitter that may come, Or snares hid in the sweet. We hold their hands and kiss their lips, We wrap them in our love; And yet a little while and then Who’ll guide them when they rove? Lord Jesus, Saviour of the lambs, Bless Thou these little ones; Teach us, O Lord, that we may teach Thy daughters and Thy sons; That we may right examples set, In pleasure or in straits; That they may in our footsteps go And enter Pearly Gates. endpaper divider |
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