THE CHILD'S PRAYER for Boys
HIS little dimpled hands were crossed,
His face looked saintly fair,
With upturned eyes of tender blue,
And waves of golden hair,
And by his dainty couch he knelt
To lisp his evening prayer.
"Dear Lord," he said, "I want to know
If you will bless tonight
All naughty, wild, and wicked boys
The boys who swear and fight?
Please, too, to help those dreadful ones
Who steal, and run away,
And never, never do what's right
Through all the blessed day."
Amazed his mother heard the plea,
And wonderingly she said,
"Why, what, my darling child, has put
Such fancies in your head!
Why don't you pray for brother Charles
And little cousin Fred?"
"Why should I pray for them, mamma?
They're good and happy, too;
The Lord has done enough for them;
I want him now to do
Something for those poor, friendless chaps
Who must be cross and bad,
Because they've nothing in the world
To make them good or glad."
Oh, wisdom of the child's pure heart,
Oh, sweet and loving creed,
That gives such tender, pitying thought
To souls in direst need!
Could schoolmen, with their varied lore,
A larger lesson teach*
Or churchmen, from their sacred desk,
Diviner doctrine preach!