Classic Poem

Into her chamber went a little child one day,
And by a chair she knelt, and thus began to pray:
“Dear Jesus, now my eyes I close, thy form I cannot see, …
If thou art near me, blessed Lord,
I pray thee, speak to me.”
A still small voice she heard within her soul,
“What is it, child?
I hear thee, tell me all.”
“I pray thee Lord,” she said, “that thou wouldst condescend
To tarry in my heart, and ever be my friend;
The path of life is dark, so dark,
I would not go astray,
Oh, let me have thy loving hand to lead me in thy way”
“Fear not, I will not leave thee, child, alone,”
She tho't she felt a soft hand press her own.
They tell me, Lord, that all the living pass away,
The aged soon must die, and even children may;
O, Jesus, let my parents live till
I a woman grow,
For if they die before what can a little orphan do?
“Fear not, my child! whatever ills may come,
I'll not forsake thee,
I will bring thee home.”
Her little pray'r was said, and, from her chamber now,
She passed with joy and light of heav'n upon her brow;
Dear mother I have seen the Lord, his hand in mine I felt,
And oh, I heard, I heard him say, as by my chair I knelt:—
“Fear not, my child! whatever ills may come,
I'll not forsake thee,
I will bring thee home.”