Classic Poem

The children, the children that are not! Ah, why
From the ends of the earth swells that desolate cry?
Has the dull world a glory, the bright skies a gloom,
That a wail should arise at the gates of the tomb?

Ah! deem ye the sparrow its pathway may hold,
Yet a lamb of Christ's love be lost from His fold?
That the diamond's sparkle should never burn dim,
Yet a spirit be quenched that was kindled by Him?

Are the husbandman's tears with his toil in vain?
From the scattered seed shall there spring no grain?
Hath the chrysalis wings ere its shroud is wound?
Hath the violet breath in the dull cold ground?

Yea! bless ye, God, as ye bend above
The broken lilies of tears and love,
That not without witness the hope was given
That a " little child " should be first in Heaven.

Ah! mighty the anguish, and many the tears
That must win for our spirits a glory like theirs
Unsinning — unsmitten! The children that trod
Through the lightness of earth to the wonders of God.

Yea! bear them to rest 'mid the flowers that tell
Their Master's meaning so clear and well,
And know by their pathway an angel hath trod
From the brightness of earth to the bosom of God!