The meaning of this seems to be, that, as the angels and men are constituted in wonderful order, the first of those mighty circles whose joy and delight is in obeisance, are the Beings who cast their crowns before the Throne, and fall down in adoration; while our little ones' joyous greetings to their spiritual pastors and masters, may be their first training for their eternal ecstasy of worship.

Thy wrath she never can incur,
She had no sins to mark,

Thou hast received and rescued her,
My dove is in the ark.

Her head in 'steadfast faith' she laid

Awhile upon my breast;

Awhile in 'joyful hope' she played,
And then she went to rest.

She gave her little love about,
In dumb but pretty show;
My wandered lamb is not shut out
From Love's true home, I know.

She danced about upon our waves
Of trouble for a while,
Then slid into the place of graves,
Wearing a wondrous smile.
Rest, satisfaction, and surprise,
Made bright the little clay,
As if it saw with sleeping eyes
What it might never say.

III.

Almighty and immortal God,
The aid of all that mourn,
When Death's pale angel flies abroad,
To Thee for help we turn.

Thou art the life of them that live,

Also of them that die;

My little child to Thee I give,

No dearer gift have I.

I asked, O Lord, and had from Thee;
Thou askest now again;
Forgive these tears of agony,
Forgive these sobs of pain.

I seek, and yet I cannot find

Her voice so glad and clear;

I do not think my love was blind,
And yet I did not fear.

She knocked with soft and tiny hand
Upon the heavenly gate;

We saw, but did not understand,

Thou didst not make her wait.

IV.

Two words among the words of Christ
Are written for my need;

They sparkle out like amethyst
As often as I read;

And seem to slake my burning thirst

To see my baby's face,

And hold her as I held her first,
Close locked in my embrace.

"When to your arms a child is sent,
Receive the symbol given;

I come, as in a sacrament,

To shew you things of Heaven.'

'Suffer your little children dear
To come to Me and rest;
The children's Kingdom is not here,
In Heaven they all are blest.'

These words of comfort are well tried,
They stand both wind and wave;
The one is for the cradle side,

The other for the grave.

V.

I prayed that God would take my child,
Release her of her sin;

And bring her, pure and undefiled,
His holy house within.

I thought how safe she would be there,
When once the time should come;
God made such haste to hear my prayer,
That I was stricken dumb.

I took upon me many a vow
That I would train her true;
I thought upon the when and how,
And mused as mothers do.

I pictured how my little child

Would grow in love and grace; Death looked upon me very mild, And covered up her face.

VI.

In passing to eternal life
My little child looked in,
To claim her portion in our strife,
That she God's peace might win.

"Of the first Adam write me down,
In the Lord's house,' said she,
'That I may wear the deathless crown
The Second bought for me.'

Her name was written with a smile,
We thought she meant to stay;
She stopped and played a little while,
And then she went away.

The second time her name was writ
Was on her coffin-lid,

Her rapt sweet face lay under it,
The loveliness all hid.

VIII.

We yield Thee hearty thanks, O Thou
Who art a Father too,

For these our Infants, gathered now
Within Thy temple new.

Thou hast received them for Thine own,
Within Thy Church on high;
They do not hear us sob and moan
Because they had to die.

They died with Christ, the holy Son,

At once to death and sin;
No battle was there to be done,
No victory to win.

They in the haven safely ride,

While we are out at sea;
Their little tears were quickly dried,
Lest they should weep as we.

We in the storm, with pallid lips,
Toil sorely, heart and limb;
As for those other little ships,'
We know they are 'with Him.'

IX.

Dear mothers, by our little graves
Let us kneel down and pray;
For He who walked life's weary waves
Has borne our babes away.

All in the morning watch He came,
We saw Him drawing near;
His presence struck through soul and frame
A strange foreboding fear.

Yet even in that cold dark hour,

And through that nameless chill, He held us with His soothing power, And whispered, Peace, be still.

Beside that glory of repose

We had no will to weep;

Not one of us, we know, God knows,
Would dare to break that sleep.