Poem August 13, 1932 Issue

Trust

FLORENCE ELIZABETH BUCK

How little children, free from every qualm
Of carking care, to happy rest time yield,
Content with that day's joy, serenely calm;
Nor strive to know their parents' thought will shield
And keep their children with unloosening hold;
Enriched by ceaseless wealth of careful love
And sure providing, safe as in a fold
The lambs unheedful rest, or as the dove
In its wood nest secure! So clouds of fear
Have never dimmed the child's sweet heaven of peace,
Or stirred a dread he might become less dear,
Nor roused a wondering thought if love could cease.

Thus we renounce all anxious-thoughted living,
All puny, wearied efforts to obtain,
And know our Father never ceases giving
Love's all-sufficing gifts, unfraught with pain.
In joyless toil no moment will we squander,
About His business we can never tire,
From His glad service we can never wander,
Beyond our measuring is His bounteous hire.

Our Father sleeps not, His dear children know,
And bide in unsuspicious rest, as deep
As little ones' undreaming quiet, for "so
He giveth His beloved while they sleep."

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