MOTHERHOOD.

Evening Star, Issue 11677, 8 February 1902, Page 8

MOTHERHOOD.

The night throbs on; but let me pray, dear Lord! . Crush off bis name a moment from my mourn. To Theo my eyes would turn, but they go back. Back to my arm beside me where he laygo little, Lord, so little and so warm! I cannot Brink that thou hadst need of him! He is so litle, Lord, he cannot sing. He cannot praise Thee; all his hie hid learned Was to hold fast my kisses in the night. Give him to me—-be is not happy there. He had not left his life: his lovely eyes Just knew me for his mother, and d.ed. Hast Thou an angel there to mother him? I say be loves me best—if ho forgets. If Thou allow it that my child forgets And runs not out to meet me when I come— What are my curses lo Thee? Tliou has heard The curse of Abel’s mother, and since then We havo not ceased to threaten at 'Thy Throne, To threat and pray Thee that Thou hold them still In memory of as. See Thou tend him well, Thou God of all the mothers! If he lacic One of his kisses—Ah, my heart, my heart, Do angels kiss in heaven? Give him back! Forgive me, Lord, but I am sick with grief, And tired of tears and cold to comforting. Thou art wise, I know, and tender, aye and good. Thou hast my child and he Is safe with Thee, And I believe— Ah. God, my child shall go Orphaned among the angels! All alone. So little and alone! He knows not Thee, Ho only knows his mother—give him bock! —‘ Scribner’s.’