  Mother, how thy little darling Softly twines its tiny arms ’Round thy neck, like infant tendrils, Bright with more than earthly charms. What callest thou the baby cherub? O can mortals find a name, Suited to its guileless spirit, And its fair and fragile frame? The rose is on its snowy cheek, Fresh as when embalmed with dew, And O, its eyes are like the stars, ’Tween the soft clouds glancing through! The ruby lip that mutely smiles, The waving of the curls of gold, The changing glances of the eye, All shadow forth bright thoughts untold. I know that in its sinless breast, Embowered in the little heart, Thoughts primitive steal softly on, God’s Spirit oft may light its mind With thoughts of gladness from above; Too fair for earth, thy darling seems; Let angels name the little Love. O! let it never see a frown, Nor hear a cold or cruel word; Its eye will imitate thy glance; Its tongue repeat whate’er is heard. O guard, with prayer, this angel germ; This bud upon Life’s ocean tossed, Lest thou shouldst ever see thy child Numbered among the loved and lost. O guard, with prayer, this deathless bud! That lust may never blight its bloom; And thou shalt see this cherished one In realms of peace beyond the tomb. Teach it to fold those little hands, And bend the knee to Christ in prayer: And all the wishes of the heart To tell the Lord who listens there. Teach it to plead the promises, Bequeathed in the sweet Book divine, If thou wouldst have this child of earth Among the stars of Heaven to shine. endpaper divider |
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