The Home Circle by Emma Burt

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Aug 12, 1886

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 12, No. 31.

The Home Circle.

By Emma Burt

I'M HURRIED, CHILD.

"Oh, mother, look! I've found a butterfly Hanging upon a leaf. Do tell me why There was no butter? Oh, do see its wings- I never, never saw such pretty things- All streaked and striped with blue and brown and gold, Where is its house when all the days are cold?" "Yes, yes," she said, in absent accents mild, "I'm hurried, child!"

"Last night my dolly quite forgot her prayers; And when she thought you had gone down stairs, Then dolly was afraid, an' so I said: 'Just don't you mind, but say 'em in the bed, Because I think God is just as near.' When dolls are 'fraid do you s'pose he can hear?" The mother spoke from out the ruffles piled: "I'm hurried, child!"

The mother now has leisure infinite; She sits with folded hands, and face as white As winter. In her heart is winter's chill. She sits at leisure, questioning God's will. "My child has ceased to breathe, and all is night! Is Heaven so dark that thou dost grudge my light? O life! O God! I must discover why The time drags by."

O mothers sweet, if cares must ever fall, Pray do not make them stones to build a wall Between thee and thine own; and miss thy right To blessedness, so swift to take its flight! While answering baby questions you are But entertaining angels unaware; The richest gifts are gathered by the way For darkest day. —Emma Burt, in Michigan Farmer.