‘I’ll Hold by Your Hand, Mother.

Shouldst not thou like, my child, to be1
With Him in that blest land2
Where He is gone to make for us3
A home not formed by hand ?’4
I do not know,’ she answered me,5
That little simple child,6
Whose lesson for the Sabbath school7
A half-hour had beguiled.8
My pet,’ I said, ‘ suppose our Queen9
Had sent to bid you come10
Into her palace bright and rich11
To make for you a home12
Suppose that toys, and food, and dress,13
And all things rich and rare,14
Were there provided for your use,15
And joys beyond compare16
Wouldst not thou gladly leave this home,17
With all thou carest for here,18
To dwell in that far better one,19
That bright and joyous sphere ?20
And heaven, my child, is brighter far !21
Nor could my words declare22
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,23
The joys that wait us there !24
Wouldst not thou like, then, little one,25
To go to that sweet home26
Where all God’s own shall surely meet,27
All Christ’s redeemed shall come ?’28
A smile lit up her little face,29
As gently she replied :30
Yes, mother ; by your hand I’ll hold,31
And enter at your side.’32