Are All the Children In?
By Mrs. S. T. Perry
THE darkness falls; the wind is high;
Dense, black clouds fill the western sky;
The storm will soon begin.
The thunders roar; the lightnings flash;
I hear the great round rain-drops dash—
Are all the children in? They're coming softly to my side;
Their forms within my arms I hide—
No other arms are sure.
The storm may rage with fury wild;
With trusting faith each little child
With mother feels secure. But future days are drawing near—
They'll go from this warm shelter here,
Out in the world's wild din.
The rain will fall, the cold winds blow;
I'll sit alone, and long to know,
Are all the children in? Will they have shelters then secure,
Where hearts are waiting strong and sure,
And love is true when tried?
Or will they find a broken reed,
When strength of heart they so much need
To help them brave the tide? God knows it all; His will is best;
I'll shield them now, and leave the rest
In His most righteous hand.
Sometimes souls He loves are riven
By tempests wild, and thus are driven
Nearer the better land.
— Mrs. S. T. Perry.