Classic Poem

Near the shore the bark lay floating, by the sunny waves caressed,
With the darling we were watching cradled in a dreamy rest.

But, borne o'er that heaving ocean, wilder sounds our gladness check,
Stormy winds and human wailings;—ah! that sea bears many a wreck.

Fear not! hopes no strength could warrant to the feeblest faith are given:
Looking forward strains the eyesight,—looking upward opens heaven.

Deeper than that ocean's tempests, softer than its murmurs be,
Breathes a Voice, a Voice thou knowest,—“Trust thy little one to Me.”

Thou hast brought thy babe to Jesus; He hath seen her, He hath blest;
In His arms thy faith hath laid her, and He bears her on His breast.

Gently on thy sleeping darling, eyes, the light of heaven, shine:
Mother, by the love thou knowest, measure His;—it passeth thine.