Classic Poem

There is an infant, pillowed sweetly,
Asleep upon its mother's breast;
A cloak is wrapped around it neatly,
And it is smiling in its rest;
A halo seems to hover o'er it,
An emanation of the skies,
And the glad heart of her who bore it
Reads peace around its sleeping eyes.

The emblem of angelic spirits,
Who live beyond the arching blue,
Where every stainless soul inherits
Delight, eternal ages through;
The same pure light around it flowing,
The same soft smile is imaged there,
The same bright, burning heart is glowing,
As in the forms divinely fair.

To all who reach the gate of Heaven,
And o'er its starry threshold go,
A heart as pure, as soft, is given,
It burns with holy feeling so;
With love unstained their eye is beaming,
Love for their God and all he made;
Such, deem I, is the infant dreaming,
Upon its tender pillow laid.

Be like the infant — pure, unspotted,
As fountains bubbling from their spring —
Before the sheet of life is blotted,
Or Peace, the dove, has taken wing;
Be like the infant, — soft and tender,
As flowers that just begin to blow;
And God will be your kind defender,
Where'er you rest, where'er you go.