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On My Daughter's First Birth-Day.

Little can I give my loved one,
Small attention can I pay;
Though in spirit always willing,
Flesh doth fail me every day.

Yet as time so swiftly passing,
Brings again thy natal morn,
I would pay this simple tribute
To my only, my first-born.

May His arms who once enfolded
Little children when on earth,
Be thy guardian and preserver,
As He has been since thy birth.

Ere thy soul by sin is hardened,
Ere thine eyes with tears grow dim,
Set thy mind on things abiding,
And devote thyself to Him.

Should life's path be long and dreary,
Rough and thorny on each side,
Lean on Him who through the desert
Safely doth His chosen guide.

Or should milk and honey pastures
Ever be thy favoured lot
May His hand who gives the manna,
Never be by thee forgot.

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Should it be our Father's pleasure,
Health to give and length of days,
Be thy life-time spent in working
For His glory and His praise.

And if in His all-wise goodness,
He should call thee early home,
Help me, Lord, with meek submission,
Still to say, "Thy will be done."

Though my fondest heart's affections
With thy being are entwined:
That thou art but lent, not given,
May I ever bear in mind.

Earthly moths and rust do ever
Spoil our treasures laid up here;
Death's fell hand is sparing never,
Stealing all we hold most dear.