I treated you as I would treat a flower,
I watched you with such care;
And from my lips God heard in many an hour
Your name in many a prayer.
I watched the flower's growth; so fair it grew,
On not a leaf a stain;
Your soul to purest thoughts so sweetly true;
I did not watch in vain.
I guide you still -- in my steps you tread still;
Towards God these ways are set;
'Twill soon be over: child! when I am dead
I'll watch and guide you yet.
'Tis better far that I should go before,
And you awhile should stay;
But I will wait upon the golden shore
To meet my child some day.
When I am dead; in some lone after time,
If crosses come to thee,
You'll think -- remembering this simple rhyme --
"He holds a crown for me."
I guide you here -- I go before you there;
But here or there -- I know --
Whether the roses, or the thorny crown you wear
I'll watch where'er you go,
And wait until you come; when I am dead
Think, sometimes, child, of this:
You must not weep -- follow where I led,
I wait for you in bliss.
God in the Night
Deep in the dark I hear the feet of God:
He walks the world; He puts His holy hand
On every sleeper -- only puts His hand --
Within it benedictions for each one --
Then passes on; but ah! whene'er He meets
A watcher waiting for Him, He is glad.
(Does God, like man, feel lonely in the dark?)
He rests His hand upon the watcher's brow --
But more than that, He leaves His very breath
Upon the watcher's soul; and more than this,
He stays for holy hours where watchers pray;
And more than that, He ofttimes lifts the veils
That hide the visions of the world unseen.
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