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THE FIRSTBORN

So fair, so dear, so warm upon my bosom,
And in my hands the little rosy feet.
Sleep on, my little bird, my lamb, my blos-

som ;
Sleep on, sleep on, my sweet.

What is it God hath given me to cherish, This living, moving wonder which is mine Mine only? Leave it with me or I perish,

Dear Lord of love divine.

Dear Lord, 't is wonderful beyond all won

der, This tender miracle vouchsafed to me, One with myself, yet just as far asunder

That I myself may see.

Flesh of my flesh, and yet so subtly link

ing New selfs with old, all things that I have

been With present joys beyond my former think

ing
And future things unseen.

There life began, and here it links with

heaven, The golden chain of years scarce dipped

adown From birth, ere once again a hold is given

And nearer to God's Throne.

Seen, held in arms and clasped around so

tightly, My love, my bird, I will not let thee go. Yet soon the little rosy feet must lightly

Go pattering to and fro.

Mine, Lord, all mine Thy gift and loving

token. Mine

yes or no, unseen its soul divine? Mine by the chain of love with links un

broken,
Dear Saviour, Thine and mine.

John Arthur Goodchild

BABY-LAND

“How many miles to Baby-Land ?”
“ Any one can tell;

Up one flight,

To the right;
Please to ring the bell.”

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