A Mother's Prayer.

I knelt beside a little bed,
    The curtains drew away,
    And, 'mid the soft, white folds beheld,
    Two rosy sleepers lay;
    The one had seen three summers smile
    And lisped her evening prayer;
    The other, - only one year's shade
    Was on her flaxen hair.

    No sense of duties ill performed
    Weighed on each heaving breast,
    No weariness of work-day care
    Disturbed their tranquil rest;
    The stars to them as yet were in
    The reach of baby hand,
    Temptation, trial, grief, were words
    They could not understand.

    But in the coming years I saw
    The turbulence of life
    O'erwhelm this calm of innocence
    With melancholy strife;
    "From all the foes that lurk without,
    From feebleness within,
    What Sovereign guard from Heaven," I asked,
    "Will strong beseeching win?"

    Then to my soul a vision came,
    Illuming, cheering all,
    Of him who stood with shining front
    On Dothan's ancient wall;
    And, while his servant's heart grew faint
    As he beheld with fear
    The Syrian bands encompassing
    The city far and near,

    With lofty confidence to his
    Sad questioning replied,
    "Those armies are outnumbered far
    By legions at our side:"
    Then up from starry sphere to sphere,
    Was borne the Prophet's prayer,
    "Unfold to his blind sight, O God!
    Thy glorious hosts and fair."

    The servant's eyes bewildered gazed
    On chariots of fire,
    On seraphs clad in mails of light,
    Resistless in their ire;
    On ranks of angels marshalled close,
    Where roving comets run,
    On silver shields and rainbow wings,
    Outspread before the sun.

    I saw the Syrian hosts, at noon,
    Led sightless through the land,
    And longed to grasp the Prophet's robe
    Within my feeble hand;
    While my whole soul went out in deep
    And passionate appeal,
    That faith like his might set within
    My babes' pure hearts its seal.