The Child In Our Soul

Toward God in heaven spacious With artless faith a boy looks free, As toward his mother gracious, And top of Christmas-tree. But early in the storm of youth There wounds him deep the serpent's tooth; His childhood's faith is doubted And flouted. Soon stands in radiant splendor With bridal wreath his boyhood's dream; Her loving eyes and tender The light of heaven's faith stream. As by his mother's knee of yore God's name he stammers yet once more, The rue of tears now paying And praying. When now life's conflict stirring Leads him along through doubtings wild, Then upward points unerring Close by his side his child. With children he a child is still And whatsoe'er his heart may chill, Prayer for his son is warming, Transforming. The greatest man in wonder Must ward the child within his breast, And list 'mid loudest thunder Its whisperings unrepressed. Where oft a hero fell with shame, The child it was restored his name, His better self revealing, And healing. All great things thought created In child-like joy sprang forth and grew; All strength with goodness mated, Obeyed the child's voice true. When beauty in the soul held sway, The child gave it in artless play;- All wisdom worldly-minded Is blinded. Hail him, who forward presses So far that he a home is worth For there alone possesses The child-life peace on earth. Though worn we grieve and hardened grow, What solace 't is our home to know With children's laughter ringing And singing.