Classic Poem

O thou great world! so full of lights and shadows,
Of doubts and fears, of hopes that wax and wane,
Of lonely deserts and of green oases,
Of mirth and music, bitter tears and pain;
I look far off adown thy tangled mazes,
But mists are floating and the clouds are piled,
And I can stand upon no mount of vision,
To trace the pathway of my little child.

I pray thee, World, deal kindly with her ever,
And do not fright her in her tender years!
Hold back thy storms, let them not beat upon her,
Dim not too soon these soulful eyes with tears.
If far away among the dim to-morrows,
Dead leaves are rustling where her feet must tread,
Let all thy breezes prophesy of summer,
And all thy birds sing joyful overhead.

Angels of God, pitch your white tents above her!
And let her feel, whate'er the future brings,
That all the air is throbbing with your presence!
And when the evening, o'er her pathway flings
Shade after shade, still walking close beside her,
Let your “Praise God” ring out so loud and clear,—
A hymn of Heaven among the earthly noises,—
That all her soul shall hush itself to hear.

Thou Sword of Truth, flash night and day before her!
Should falsehood weave its meshes for her feet,
Should poison fruitage hang alluring o'er her,
And lying voices bid her pluck and eat;
Then thou good Sword, flash swift through all disguises,
Point out the place where error lies concealed,
And O, to win the soul's immortal prizes,
Strike thou for her on life's great battle-field!

Thou King of kings, Jesus, Thou son of Mary!
As once of old, Judean mothers came,
Bringing their children, praying Thee to bless them,
So come I now, my errand is the same;
In arms of faith I hold her up before Thee,
The world, O Lord! how wide it is and wild!
W
With all Thy blessings, bless my little child!

O thou great world! so full of lights and shadows,
Of doubts and fears, of hopes that wax and wane,
Of lonely deserts and of green oases,
Of mirth and music, bitter tears and pain;
I look far off adown thy tangled mazes,
But mists are floating and the clouds are piled,
And I can stand upon no mount of vision,
To trace the pathway of my little child.

I pray thee, World, deal kindly with her ever,
And do not fright her in her tender years!
Hold back thy storms, let them not beat upon her,
Dim not too soon these soulful eyes with tears.
If far away among the dim to-morrows,
Dead leaves are rustling where her feet must tread,
Let all thy breezes prophesy of summer,
And all thy birds sing joyful overhead.

Angels of God, pitch your white tents above her!
And let her feel, whate'er the future brings,
That all the air is throbbing with your presence!
And when the evening, o'er her pathway flings
Shade after shade, still walking close beside her,
Let your “Praise God” ring out so loud and clear,—
A hymn of Heaven among the earthly noises,—
That all her soul shall hush itself to hear.

Thou Sword of Truth, flash night and day before her!
Should falsehood weave its meshes for her feet,
Should poison fruitage hang alluring o'er her,
And lying voices bid her pluck and eat;
Then thou good Sword, flash swift through all disguises,
Point out the place where error lies concealed,
And O, to win the soul's immortal prizes,
Strike thou for her on life's great battle-field!

Thou King of kings, Jesus, Thou son of Mary!
As once of old, Judean mothers came,
Bringing their children, praying Thee to bless them,
So come I now, my errand is the same;
In arms of faith I hold her up before Thee,
The world, O Lord! how wide it is and wild!
What can she do? How can she live without Thee?
With all Thy blessings, bless my little child!