To E. S.
O heartstricken, sorrowing mother!
No words ever written or said
Can lessen the weight of your sorrow
Since the baby you love is dead.
But remember, O sorrowful mother
Thy heart should rejoice, not repine,
Since of all earth’s beautiful treasures
The Master has chosen thine.
The fairest, the brightest, the purest,
Find grace in His loving eyes
And the Lord hath chosen thy treasure
To beautify Paradise.
Dear baby hands that will never
Grow weary with earthly strife,
Sweet baby eyes that will never
Grow dim with the cares of life.
Wee feet that will never stumble
Over Life’s rugged way,
For the hands of angels now guide them
And they cannot go astray.
But a mother’s love is boundless
As the seas or the skies above,
And a mother’s heart grows jealous
E’en of the angels love.
And she longs for her baby’s kisses,
The touch of the dimpled hand,
And the baby voice now thrilling
The ears of the angel band.
But you need not fear, O mother!
Tho’ the years be many or few,
Tho’ the time pass slow or swiftly,
For the baby heart is true.
Not even the songs of the angels
Or the joys of Paradise
Can banish the tender yearning
From your baby’s gentle eyes
As she lingers beside the portal
Of her shining, heavenly home
And asks of the angel warder
If her mother soon will come.
And the wistful longing deepens
In her eyes as she stands and waits,
Watching for mother darling
At the City’s pearly gates.
Cease then to mourn, sad mother,
Take up Life’s burden anew,
Shape thou the future before thee
With earnest endeavor and true,
That no thought or deed unworthy
May bring shame to the baby eyes
That are watching so wistfully for thee
From the gates of Paradise.