‘Tis the cry of the children-calling,
Calling to God on high;
The cry from the streets uprising,
“Oh I help us or we die.”
Far out on the peopled highway,
And up from the desert sands,
By the sea of life they are pleading now,
Lifting their little hands.
Thank God for the love that can shelter―
The charity that bears,
On the bosom of human pity,
The children’s cries and prayers.
On them rests the Master’s blessing,
Blessing that all may win;
What has been done for the children
Has aye been done for Him.
O Christ of the little children!
Shepherd of lambs like these!
The balm of Thy love shines o’er them,
Like light on summer trees.
And the voice of the dear Christ speaking,
Over their troubled sea,
Still tells of a heavenly greeting―
“Let the little ones come unto Me.”
H. W.
Had I the means I could put a Testament into tens of thousands of children’s waiting hands, outstretched for them at this time. As the means are sent to me by God for this purpose, I shall be only too glad to help to meet the present pressing want.