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Cradle-song Of The Poor

Cradle-song Of The Poor image
Parent Issue
Day
15
Month
February
Year
1878
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Hush ! I cannot bear to see thee Stretch thy tiny hands in vain ; Dear, I have no bread to give thee, Nothing, chüd, to ease thy pain ! When God sent thoe first to bless me, Proud and thankful, too, was I ; Kow, my darling, I, thy mother, Almost long to see thee die. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary, God is good, but life is dreary. I have watchcd thy beauty fading, And thy stiength siiik day by day, Soon, I know, will want and fever Take thy Iittle life away. Famine makos thy father reckless; Hope has left both him and me ; We could Buffer all, my baby, Had we bnt a crust for thee. Better thou sbould perish early, Starve so soon, my darling one, Than in helplcss ein and sorrow Vainly live as I have done. Better that thy angel spirit With my joy, my peace, wcro flown, Than thy heart grow cold and careless, Reckless, hopeless, like my own. I am wasted, dear, with hunger, And my brain is all opprest, I have scarcely strength to press thee, Wan and feeble, to my breast. Patience, baby, God will help us, Death will come to thee and nie, He will take us to His heaven, Where no waut or pain can. be. Such the plaint that, late and early, Did we listen, we might hear Close betide us- but the thunder Of a city dulls our ear. Every heart, as God's bright angel Can bid on o snch sorrow cease ; God has glory when His children Bring His poor ones joy and peace.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus