At this hush'd hour when all my children sleep,
Here in thy presence, gracious GOD, I kneel;
And, while the tears of gratitude I weep,
Would pour the prayer, which gratitude must feel;
Parental love! O set thy holy seal on these soft hearts which thou to me hast sent;
Repel temptation, guard their better weal:
Be thy pure spirit to their frailty lent,
And lead them in the path their infant Saviour went.
***
I ask not for them eminence or wealth -
For these, in Wisdom's view, are trifling toys, -
But occupation, competence, and health;
Thy love, thy presince, and the lasting joys that flow therefrom;
The passion which employs the breasts of holy men;
And thus to be from all that taints, or darkness, or destroys the strength of principle, for ever free:
This is the better boon, O GOD, I ask of thee.
***
This world, I know, is but a narrow bridge,
And treacherous waters roar and foam below;
With feeble feet we walk the wooden ridge, which creaks and shakes beneth us as we go;
Some fall by accident, and thousands throw their bodies headlong in the hungry stream;
Some sink by secret means, and never know the hand which struck them from their transient dream,
Till Wisdom wakes in death, and in despair they scream.
***
If these soft feet, which now these feathers press,
And doom'd the paths of ruin soon tread;
If Vice, conceal'd in her unspotted dress is soon to lure to her polluted bed; -
If thy foreseeing eye discernest a thread of sable guilt, impelling on their doom,
O spare them not - in mercy strike them dead;
Prepare for them an early, welcome tomb,
Nor for eternal blight let my false blossoms bloom!
***
But if some useful path befere them lie,
Where they may walk obedient to thy laws;
Though never basking in Ambition's eye,
And pamper'd never with the world's applause;
Active, yet humble; virtuous too;
The cause of virtue in the dwellings where they dwell;
Still following where thy perfect Spirit draws;
Releasing others from the bands of hell; - If this be life, then let them longer live: 'tis well.
***
And teach me, Power Supreme, in their green days,
With meekest skill thy lessons to impart, -
To shun the harlot, and to show the maze through which her honeyed accents reach the heart:
Help them to learn, without the bitter smart of bad experience, voices to decline;
From treachery, falsehood, knavery may they start as from a hidden snake;
From women, wine - from all the guilty pangs with which such sceses combine.
***
How soft they sleep!
What innocent repose rests on those eyes from older sorrows free!
Sweet babes! The curtain I would not unclose which wraps the future from your minds and me:
But, Heavenly Father, leaving them with thee -
Whether or high or low may be their lot,
Or early death or life await them, - be their Guardian, Saviour, Guide;
And bless the spot where they shall live or die: till death, forsake them not!
***
Though Persecution's arches o'er then spread,
Or sickness undermine, consuming slow;
Though they should lead the life their Saviour led,
And his deep poverty be doomed to know:
Wherever thou shalt order, let them go;
I give up to thee - they are not mine;
And I could call the swiftest winds to blow
To bear them from me tothe Pole or Line,
In distant lands to plant the gospel's bleeding shrine.
***
When as s scroll these heavens shall pass away,
When the cold grave shall offer up its trust;
When seas shall burn, and the last, dreadful day restores the spirit to its scattered dust;
Then, thou most Merciful as well as Just,
Let not my eye, when elements are toss'd in wild confusion, see that darkest,
Worst of painful sights that ever a parent cross'd -
Hear my sad, earnest prayer, and let not mine be lost!
***
-by Rev. Leonard Withington
-Christian Keepsake, Published by Brower, Hayes & Company 1848
