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BAPTISM.
The mother stands in the sacred aisle,
And she looks on her child with a trembling smile:
That smile is mingled with many a fear,
And scarce can she check a rising tear;
In a world which is full of care and strife,
Do her dreams now picture his future life.
And she looks on her child with a trembling smile:
That smile is mingled with many a fear,
And scarce can she check a rising tear;
In a world which is full of care and strife,
Do her dreams now picture his future life.
She has brought her babe—she has brought it there,
Where so oft for him she has breathed the prayer;
She has brought him—an offering to her God,
On the spot where her own fond steps have trod;
And that early love is mingling now
With a Christian's hope, on her kindling brow.
Where so oft for him she has breathed the prayer;
She has brought him—an offering to her God,
On the spot where her own fond steps have trod;
And that early love is mingling now
With a Christian's hope, on her kindling brow.
She turns her gaze to that helpless one,
Upon her for love and protection thrown;
And its feebleness causes the tear to start,
And she presses him closer to her heart;
And to the fount she draws nearer still,
As a pledge she will shield him from every ill.
Upon her for love and protection thrown;
And its feebleness causes the tear to start,
And she presses him closer to her heart;
And to the fount she draws nearer still,
As a pledge she will shield him from every ill.
