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 shouldst take away from me My little son? “Upon the thousand useless lives, Upon the guilt that vaunting thrives, Thy wrath were better spent! Why shouldst Thou take my little son— Why shouldst Thou vent Thy wrath upon This innocent?” Last night, as my dear babe lay dead, Before mine eyes the vision spread Of things that might have been: Licentious riot, cruel strife, Forgotten prayers, a wasted life Dark red with sin! Then, with sweet music in the air, I saw another vision there: A Shepherd in whose keep A 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 read A wisdom manifest; And though my arms be childless now, I am content—to Him I bow Who knoweth best.