Little Minnie.

A poem by Nora Pembroke

Is it well with the child? and she answered, it is well.


If earth's weariness for rest is changed,
Rest on the far off shore,
If earth's sighing's changed for singing
Psalms of praise for evermore.

And the bed of pain for roaming free,
Beneath the living trees,
Whose leaves of healing wither not
In any earthly breeze.

And to mix with those who, robed and crowned,
Walk by the crystal sea;
To gather with the other lambs
Beside the Saviour's knee.

We will keenly miss our absent child;
Lonely tears our loss will tell,
But His voice says, "It is well with her,
We answer, "It is well."

It is well to know that safely home
Is this our dearest one;
To know she's with the children fair
Gathered around the throne,

'Tis no light thing that God has stooped
Our dear one home to bring,
From weariness and painfulness
To the presence of the King.

Let weeping and rejoicing,
Mingled, our sorrow tell;
We are lonely, oh our Father
But Thou knowest it is well.

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