Classic Poem

He stood beside the cradle,
A tender-brooding care,
Watching with love-illumined eyes
The baby brother there.

He stood beside the cradle,
While busily without
The mother plied her morning work
The happy home about.

Three moons had bloomed and faded
Since " Baby" earthward came,
Nor yet with seeking far or near
Was found a fitting name.

Anon the door was opened, —
The mother paused and smiled,
As, face all tremulous with joy,
Up spake the little child:

" Mamma, I 've named the baby!"
" You have? What is it, Jo?"
" I 'm going to call him God, Mamma,
That 's the best name I know."

O depth of heavenly wisdom
Alone to love unsealed, —
Hid from the wise and prudent ones
And unto babes revealed!

Wee prophet of the Highest,
Who touched thy little tongue
To speak so clear the holiest thought
That e'er was said or sung?

The preaching of the pulpit
Seems vague and far away,
Beside thy bolder faith that sees
" Immanuel" to-day.

Ah, well if in each other,
As through the world we go,
We saw what in that babe was seen
And named by little Jo!