The Age Herald

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

I know where there's a house, little people,
'Tis the dismalest place in the world!
If your quietest hour was quadrupled
Where you would live, would to them seem a whirl.

Ah, but those dear folks should be pitied
Above all of the living, I think.
And from all their sins stand acquitted
For to good things they haven't a link.

We can scarce think that they will grow better:
No poetry in their lives can there be:
To all hope of true greatness the utter
Lack of beauty and love that they see.

Now, what do you think is the matter
With the unfortunate folks of my song?
'Tis simply that the noise and the clatter
Of no child to their house does belong.

But just over the way there's another
It's the jolliest place in the town;
There's a dozen of them, and a mother,
Who doesn't mind when there's noise all around.

They wrestle and they jump and they tussle,
They tumble and they swing and they call!
Oh! there's noise and there's fun and there's bustle
Enough and to spare by them all.

In the effort to teach them correctly
Each the other's full rights to esteem,
The big folk may learn indirectly.
To be as to the children they'd seem.

It appears that our Father in Heaven
To prevent our oft going astray
Saw the need and the children were given.
He sent them to show us the right way.

M. J. V.