Father of lights! we bless each ray <br />Shot from thy throne to lead the blind; <br />With song we hail the holy day <br />That's dawning on the youthful mind. <br /> <br /> <br />Gone is the gloom! the cold eclipse, <br />In which the ignorant at thee gaze, <br />Has passed; and now from infant lips <br />Art thou, O God, 'perfecting praise.' <br /> <br /> <br />Bishop of souls, whose arms were spread, <br />To clasp and bless such little ones, <br />On these be thine own spirit shed, <br />That they may be thy Father's sons! <br /> <br /> <br />Friends of the young, whose toils are o'er, <br />Taste ye in heaven a purer bliss, <br />Or one that now ye cherish more, <br />Than that which comes from days like this? <br /> <br /> <br />Author of life! when death's cold hand <br />Is gently on our eyelids pressed, <br />May sorrowing children round us stand,- <br />The children whom our cares have blessed.<br /><br />John Pierpont<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymns-and-odes-for-charity-occasions-vii/
