Page:Poems Crandall.djvu/43

A Mothers Prayer

Our Father who art in Heaven,
  Amid the cares of the day;
The worrying, troubling trifles,
  For patience, sweet patience I pray.

For patience with baby's troubles,
  Tho' small they seem to me.
Do not our greater trials
  Still smaller seem to Thee?

And yet Thou art ever ready
  To bend Thy list'ning ear
And every tale of sorrow
  With loving compassion to hear.

For patience with all the racket,
  The shouts and the noisy play;
Full well we know such music,
  Will all too soon pass away.

With the house so still and lonely,
  We shall sigh for the fun and the noise;
May we feel today these blessings,
  And rejoice with the girls and boys.

For patience with children's failings,
  How can they perfect be?
They only follow our footsteps,
  The fruit will be as the tree.

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