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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 25, 1912

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 89, No. 4.

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By Abby F. Fiske

ABBY F. FISKE
I WILL hide thee, O My child! Naught shall come to thee of harm: Naught of ill will e’er betide: Only lean thou on my arm.
In the midst of sweetest slumbers, In the stillness of the night, In the depths of foaming breakers, In the hush of morning light,
In the cares of life, I’ll hide thee, Till at last thou reach the goal; Till thou there in heaven’s glory, Meet the Lover of thy soul.
Melrose, Mass.