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Transcription of Page 22
Softly caressing the sleeper's head.
"Nay," said the mother, "O Angel Guest.
Give her whatever Thou deemest best."
"What shall I give her, O mother mild?
Ask what thou wilt for thy little child.
Shall I touch her brow that her eyes may shine
With a beauty that men will call divine?
Shall I touch her lips that they may flow
With songs the sweetest the world may know?"
"Nay," said the mother, "that will not stay.
Songs die forgotten and hair turns grey."
"But what shall I give her?" He said again.
"Ask, and thou shalt not ask in vain."
And the mother lifted her eyes above.
"Give her purity, truth, and love."
And the Christ child turned to her, soft and mild.
"Thou has chosen the best for thy little child.
Be not afraid, tho' life be sore.
I shall be with her for evermore."
To this I would add courage,