The Parents' Review

A Monthly Magazine of Home-Training and Culture

The Eternal Child

All his rest is on her arm;
She, his only shield from harm;
She doth his sole meat supply;
All his joy is in her eye.

Helpless, that is not his care;
A burden, she is strong to bear;
Fragile, will not she forefend?
Ailing--soft, her love shall tend.

Jesus, Saviour, Son of man,
Who camest, Infant of a span,
Was Mary Thy one mother mild,
Or art Thou ever born a Child?

My trembling heart doth in me burn;
There, perchance, shall I discern,
Though the stall be all defiled,
The tender form of Christ the Child:

Is there One, a little One,
Who lieth sweetly as a son--
All His meat, the Father's grace,
All His joy, the Father's face;

Rueing not His feeble state,
Fearing not the ills that wait,
Safe, nor asking why, nor how--
Jesus, then, not I, but Thou!

Other fearsome inmates there;
Evil dragons, giant Care;
Hope, joyous, sees them led in thrall,
This "Little One" shall rule them all.

Typed by Dawn R, Jan 2018