The Dead Babe
Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,In agony I knelt and said:“O God! what have I done,Or in what wise offended Thee,That Thou should’st take away from meMy little son?
“Upon the thousand useless lives,Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives,Thy wrath were better spent!Why should’st Thou take my little son—Why should’st Thou vent Thy wrath uponThis innocent?”
Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,Before mine eyes the vision spreadOf things that might have been:Licentious riot, cruel strife,Forgotten prayers, a wasted lifeDark red with sin!
Then, with sweet music in the air,I saw another vision there:A Shepherd in whose keepA little lamb—my little child!Of worldly wisdom undefiled,Lay fast asleep!
Last night, as my dear babe lay dead,In those two messages I readA wisdom manifest;And though my arms be childless now,I am content—to Him I bowWho knoweth best.