“Mamma,” said little Willie,
And climbed upon her knee,
“Who loves me best, mamma dear?
Please tell it unto me.
There’s father, you and auntie,
Our Ned and sisters three;
Who loves me best, mamma dear?
Now whisper it to me.
My birthday is today, mamma,
I’m really six years old;
I think you’ll tell a secret
I have not yet been told.
I’ve brought my gifts to show you—
Six arrows and a bow,
My books—this little barrow
Was father’s gift, I know.
A ball and pretty paint-box;
A little spade and hoe.
How nice they look on the table!
I’ve placed them in a row.
I’ve counted them over, mamma;
Nine present now I see.
How kind of my friends to give them,
How much they must love me!
I woke up so early this morning;
I felt so glad and gay;
It seemed that the birds were singing
More joyfully today.
I thought on my birthday morning
Of those who loved me so;
But who loves me best, mamma dear?
‘Tis this I want to know.
Sometimes I think it’s father,
He is so good and kind;
He seems so much delighted
When I his wishes mind.
But when my head aches badly
And I sit upon your knee,
I think it’s you, dear mamma;
You do so comfort me.
And yet on a Sunday evening
When I lie in bed alone,
I think ‘tis dear aunt Katie,
When you are not at home.
For she comes upstairs so often,
And sits beside my bed,
Till I fall asleep in dreaming
Of stories she has read.”
Mamma then kissed her Willie
And smoothed his golden hair
Her voice was low and tender
As she saw his face so fair.
Then she looked at the playthings
Arranged so carefully,
And she folded still more closely
The boy upon her knee.
“How much we all love you, Willie,
Is more than I can say;
Father and mother and auntie
See you are happy today.
We are glad your presents please you,
We hoped and meant they should,
For we tried to give our darling
Just what might do him good.
Yes, we dearly love you, Willie:
Your father, aunt and me;
Old nursie and baby Ethel,
Brother Ned, and sisters three;
But there’s One who loves you better,
‘Tis Jesus, the children’s Friend,
The One who has died to save you
Whose love can never end.
Yes, He loves you best, my darling,
He died to redeem and save.
He knew you were a sinner,
And so His life He gave;
He wants to bless you, Willie,
His love He would unfold,
You’re not too young to need Him,
Though only six years old.
I pray that my darling Willie
May have that gift divine,
Which Jesus giveth the children
Who on His love recline.
How sweet on your birthday to trust Him,
For He would have you blest;
Yes, darling, though clearly we love you
‘Tis Jesus who loves you best.”
ML 09/03/1916