A MOTHER'S BIRTH-DAY SONG TO HER FIRST-BORN. BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE. I. BEAUTEOUS and most beloved! The year that dawned upon thy birth On rosy wings hath lightly moved; And still thy healthful hue, thy buoyant mirth Oh! could'st thou ever be what now thou art! The stroke of suffering or of woe Must reach the mother through the child; And thou, unconscious babe! thou, too, must know The general doom; thou, too, must share Man's common heritage of toil and care! III. Dear as thou art, and dear As to thy father's heart and mine Thou ever must be, yet the tear, From which we cannot shield, may soon be thine; And pain on that sweet open brow May set a seal, though all is sportive now! IV. But, O thou loveliest flower! Though blasts may bruise thy slender stem, Weigh to the dust thy scarce-expanding gem; Still lives the promise of a brighter birth! Hence, at thy natal hour, V. 'Tis not the anxious mother's prayer That far from thee may fall the shower, The cloud sail o'er thee, and the tempest spare ; Unvexed by cares, a cloudless summer-day. VI. The path to heavenly light Through darkness leads; a wreath divine Succeeds the struggle and the fight. O may that light, sweet babe! that wreath be thine! And to the mother's prayer be given To hail her first-born child the child of heaven! |