Poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Part 3
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20 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
This badge of the Loyal Legion We placed upon her breast, As she lay in her little coffin Taking her last sweet rest.
To wear that badge as a token She earnestly did crave, So we laid it on her bosom To wear it in the grave.
Where sorrow would never reach her Nor harsh words smite her ear; Nor her eyes in death dimmed slumber Would ever shed a tear.
"What means this badge?" said her father, Whom we had tried to save; Who said, when we told her story, "Don't put it in the grave."
We took the badge from her bosom And laid it on a chair; And men by drink deluded Knelt by that badge in prayer.
And vowed in that hour of sorrow From drink they would abstain;
THE SPARROW'S FALL. 21
And this little badge became the wedge Which broke their galling chain.
And lifted the gloomy shadows That overspread my life, And flooding my home with gladness, Made me a happy wife.
And this is why this sc.r.a.p of blue Is precious in my sight; It changed my sad and gloomy home From darkness into light.
THE SPARROW'S FALL.
Too frail to soar--a feeble thing-- It fell to earth with fluttering wing; But G.o.d, who watches over all, Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
'Twas not a bird with plumage gay, Filling the air with its morning lay; 'Twas not an eagle bold and strong, Borne on the tempest's wing along.
22 THE SPARROW'S FALL.
Only a brown and weesome thing, With drooping head and listless wing; It could not drift beyond His sight Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Its dying chirp fell on His ears, Who tunes the music of the spheres, Who hears the hungry lion's call, And spreads a table for us all.
Its mission of song at last is done, No more will it greet the rising sun; That tiny bird has found a rest More calm than its mother's downy breast
Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust In G.o.d, so tender, strong and just; In whose love and mercy everywhere His humblest children have a share.
If in love He numbers ev'ry hair, Whether the strands be dark or fair, Shall we not learn to calmly rest, Like children, on our Father's breast?
G.o.d BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND. 23
G.o.d BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND.
G.o.d bless our native land, Land of the newly free, Oh may she ever stand For truth and liberty.
G.o.d bless our native land, Where sleep our kindred dead, Let peace at thy command Above their graves be shed.
G.o.d help our native land, Bring surcease to her strife, And shower from thy hand A more abundant life.
G.o.d bless our native land, Her homes and children bless, Oh may she ever stand For truth and righteousness.
24 DANDELIONS.
DANDELIONS.
Welcome children of the Spring, In your garbs of green and gold, Lifting up your sun-crowned heads On the verdant plain and wold.
As a bright and joyous troop From the breast of earth ye came Fair and lovely are your cheeks, With sun-kisses all aflame.
In the dusty streets and lanes, Where the lowly children play, There as gentle friends ye smile, Making brighter life's highway
Dewdrops and the morning sun, Weave your garments fair and bright, And we welcome you to-day As the children of the light.
Children of the earth and sun.
We are slow to understand All the richness of the gifts Flowing from our Father's hand.
THE BUILDING. 25
Were our vision clearer far, In this sin-dimmed world of ours, Would we not more thankful be For the love that sends us flowers?
Welcome, early visitants, With your sun-crowned golden hair, With your message to our hearts Of our Father's loving care.
THE BUILDING.
"Build me a house," said the Master, "But not on the s.h.i.+fting sand, Mid the wreck and roar of tempests, A house that will firmly stand.
"I will bring thee windows of agates, And gates of carbuncles bright, And thy fairest courts and portals Shall be filled with love and light.
"Thou shalt build with fadeless rubies, All fas.h.i.+oned around the throne, A house that shall last forever, With Christ as the cornerstone.
26 HOME, SWEET HOME.
"It shall be a royal mansion, A fair and beautiful thing, It will be the presence-chamber Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.
Poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Part 3
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