The suffering child, with an unerring trust,
Clings only to the one who loves him most;
The mother-touch alone can still his cry,
The mother-love alone his needs supply.
How oft have we, children of riper years,
Longed to regain the trust that calms all fears.
Grown wise in error's ways, our trusts then seem
As baseless as the fabric of a dream.
Despairing hearts, the voice of Love calls clear:
Turn to the Light; thy help, thy strength, is near.
Come as a child comes! By thy trusting prove
That God, the source of Life and Truth, is Love.
