When a little baby dies <br />And the wee form silent lies, <br />And the little cheeks seem waxen <br />And the little hands are still, <br />Then your soul gives way to treason, <br />And you cry: 'O, God, what reason, <br />O, what justice and what mercy <br />Have You shown us by Your will?' <br /> <br />'Oh, there are so many here <br />Of the yellow leaf and sere, <br />Who are anxious, aye, and ready <br />To respond unto Your call; <br />Yet You pass them by unheeding, <br />And You set our hearts to bleeding! <br />Oh how bitterly upon us <br />Do Your vaunted mercies fall!' <br /> <br />Yet some day, in after years, <br />When Death's angel once more nears, <br />And the unknown, silent river <br />Looms as darkly as a pall, <br />You will hear your baby saying, <br />'Mamma, come to me, I'm staying <br />With my arms outstretched to greet you,' <br />And you'll understand it all.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-a-little-baby-dies/
