Classic Poem

Sing, little darling, sing,
And may thy song be everlasting!
Not all the learning wits and sages boast
Can equal the sweet burden of thy song; —
Can yield such rest amid life's noisiest strife; —
Such peace to still the spirit's wildest wars; —
Such hope to stem the most tumultuous wave
May threat to overwhelm.
The love of Jesus, —
Sweet, having this thou risest far above
All this world's clouds, and catchest glimpse of Heaven.


Did He who blest
That infant band that crowded round His knee,
See, in a face like thine, a tender memory
Of that dear home He left for our sakes?
It may be; nay, it must: " Of such, " He said,
" My Father's kingdom. " And His great heart
Went out in fondest tones: His soft embrace
Encircling such as thou, thrilled out that love
That vibrates yet, and still enfolds so warm
His tender lambs.
Sing, little darling, sing,
And may thy song be everlasting.