SUFFER the little ones to come to Me,
“Forbid them not,” the Saviour said: and we,
Remembering His words, sure comfort take
That these, our dear ones. He will not forsake:
But through their infancy so safely guide
The little ones He sheltered at His side,
That when He reigns in universal sway.
His kingdom shall consist of “such as they,”
And those whom death has snatch’d from earthly care,
An Angel band, await to greet us there.
We give them up in tears, then turn again
To clasp more closely those that yet remain,
But, ah! when they are little ones no longer,
When limbs grow strong, and earthly passions stronger.
When by their parents’ care no more defended,
And by unblest example oft “offended.”
The world’s temptations all around them rise,
And what seems good is evil in disguise,
When Love divine is shatter’d and o’erthrown,
While a base counterfeit usurps its throne;
When scepticism and sophistry combine
To lure them from the straight and narrow line,
And such the complication of the ways
That even conscience fails to thread the maze;
O then, when most they need Thee, Lord of Life,
Be with them in the struggle and the strife;
With skill divine their erring feet direct,
From vice restrain them, and from harm protect:
Lay on the doubting heart a strengthening hand,
And lead them through the sin-bewilder’d land;
Within Thine arms still let their refuge be,
And let them still be “little ones” to Thee!
And should it please Thee to prolong their span,
Ev’n to the utmost term of mortal man,
That time of trouble soon to pass away.
The tearful evening of a changeful day.
When trembling limbs and failing ear and eye
Attest the truth that “all is vanity.”
When music charms no more the fainting soul,
So frail the “silver cord” and “golden bowl,”
When sins that once seemed trivial as the light
Grass-springing insect, haunt the sleepless night,
In monstrous guise, and to the aggregate
Of life’s sore burden bring an added weight:
When all the things that “might have been” arise
Like goods unclaimed before regretful eyes,
And golden opportunities gone by,
And lost for ever, mock the memory.
O, Thou, to Whom all time is but a span,
Whose reckoning is not that of finite man,
Who, to Thine easy yoke and restful home
Didst bid the weary and o’erladen come,
Look with compassion on their feebleness,
Stoop once again the lowly heads to bless,
Then from all earthly bondage set them free,
And make them ever “little ones” with Thee!
(Emily Mary Barton)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Life Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Time Poems, Soul Poems, Truth Poems, Angels Poems, Memory Poems, Insects PoemsBased on Keywords: sophistry, usurps, regretful, consist, feebleness, aggregate, unclaimed, complication, erladen, scepticism