Classic Poem

I came, I go, at His behest,
So, fearing not and not distressed,
I pass unto that life unguessed.

Little the babe, at its first cry,
Knows of the scenes that near it lie;
Less still of that dim life know I.

But Love receives the babe to earth,
Soft hands give welcome at its birth;
And so I think, when I go forth,

There too shall wait, to cheer and bless,
Love, warm as mother's first caress,
Strong as a father's tenderness.