How happy are those Little ones Whose parents fear the Lord, And shew their daughters and their sons The treasures of his Word! Instructed, not at school alone, But at their home beside, With quicker pace they travel on, And never want a guide. I know that scripture tells me true, There is a place of woe (My parents! I am pain'd for you) To which the careless go. O Lord, who causest Babes to see, And lead'st the ancient blind, Their case, who being gave to me, Sits heavy on my mind. Must we and shall we, when the date Of this short life is o'er Be fixt in such a diff'rent state, And meet in love no more? Forbid it, Lord! and change a pray'r In trembling hope preferr'd, To praise and thanks for saving care And supplication heard. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE PILGRIMS by RUPERT BROOKE THE HARVEST MOON; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 109 by PETRARCH FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR TO HIS HEART, BIDDING IT HAVE NO FEAR by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE GLORIOUS TOUCHDOWN by GEORGE ADE THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): JASON'S SOWING AND REAPING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |