Poem April 20, 1940 Issue

Lesson for the Hour

MARY HOYT LOVELAND

The little children, as he went,
Drew to his side in sweet content;
Their gentle hearts were stirred.
And when he paused to rest a while,
How well they read his tender smile,
And hung upon his word!

The Saviour loved their simple joy,
Their purity without alloy,
Their sweet humility,
And blessed these qualities of heaven
That bring to earth a healing leaven
To quicken and to free.

For sorely grieved he was that still
His students, moved by human will,
Were seeking place and power;
And so he drew a little child
Into their midst—so gentle, mild—
As lesson for the hour.

The kingdom has no place for pride;
No worldly thought can there abide.
The meek alone have power.

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