A PARENT'S PRAYER

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 27, 1872

A PARENT'S PRAYER.

The following lines were published a few years since. The article is one of uncommon beauty and excellence, and will find a ready and warm response from every Christian parent:

At this hushed hour, when all my children sleep, Here in thy presence, gracious God, I kneel, And while the tears of gratitude I weep, Would pour the prayer which gratitude must feel. Parental love! O set thy holy seal On these soft hearts, which thou to me hast sent, Repel temptation, guard their better weal, Be thy pure Spirit to their frailty lent, And lead them in the path their infant Saviour went.

I ask not for them eminence or wealth, For these, in Wisdom's view, are trifling toys; But occupation, competence, and health, Thy love, thy presence, and the lasting joys That flow therefrom; the passion which employs The breasts of holy men, and thus to be From all that taints, or darkens, or destroys; The strength of principle, forever free;— This is the better boon, O God, I ask of thee.

This world, I know, is but a narrow ridge, And treacherous waters roar and foam below; With feeble feet we walk the wooden bridge, Which creaks and shakes beneath us as we go, Some fall by accident, and thousands throw Their bodies headlong in the angry stream. Some sink by secret means, and never know The hand which struck them in their transient dream, Till Wisdom wakes in death, and in despair they scream.

If these soft feet, which now these feathers press Are doomed the path of ruin soon to tread, If vice, concealed, on her unspotted dress, Is soon to turn to her polluted bed— If thy foreseeing eye discerns a thread Of sable guilt impending on their doom, O spare them not—in mercy strike them dead, Prepare for them an early welcome tomb, Not for eternal blight, let my false blossoms bloom.

But if some useful path before them lie, Where they may walk obedient to thy laws, Though never basking in ambition's eye, And pampered never with the world's applause, Active, yet humble, virtuous too, the cause Of virtue in the dwellings where they dwell, Still following where thy perfect Spirit draws, Releasing others from the bands of hell— If this be life, then let them longer live, ’tis well.

And teach me, Power Supreme, in their green days, With meekest skill thy lesson to impart, To shun the harlot, and to show the maze Through which her honied accents reached the heart; Help them to learn without the bitter smart Of sad experience, vices to decline; From treachery, falsehood, knavery, may they start As from a hidden snake, from woman, wine, From all the guilty scenes with which such snares combine.

How soft they sleep; what innocent repose Rests on their eyes, from older sorrows free! Sweet babes, the curtain I would not unclose, Which wraps the future from their minds and me. But, heavenly Father, leaving them with thee— Whether or high or low may be their lot, Or early death or life await them—be Their Guardian, Saviour, Guide, and bless the spot Where they shall live or die; till death, forsake them not.

Though persecutions arches o'er them spread, Or sickness undermine, consuming slow, Though they should lead the life their Saviour led, And his deep poverty be doomed to know, Whatever thou shalt order, let them go; I give them up to thee, they are not mine; And I could call the swiftest winds to blow, To bear them from me, to the pole or line, In distant lands to plant the gospel's bleeding shrine.

When as a scroll these heavens shall pass away, When the old grave shall offer up its trust, When seas shall burn, and the last dreadful day Restores existence to the scatter'd dust, Then, Thou, most merciful, as well as just Let not my eye, when elements are tossed In wild confusion, see that darkest, worst, Of painful sights, that ever parent crossed— Hear my sad, earnest prayer, and let not mine be lost. —Rev. L. Withington.