A poem by H. P. Nichols

In Bible times so long ago,
And in a far-off city, too,
A mother watched her only child
As he in strength and beauty grew.

And when his little tottering feet
Had scarcely learned to go alone,--
Before his baby voice could speak
Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,--

She took her boy and travelled on,
Away from home, for many a mile,
That with a good and holy man
Her darling son might live a while;

That he might learn about the God
Who made the earth and sea and sky;
And then she left him there and turned
Back to her home, with many a sigh.

She could not place him on her knee
And tell him he was very dear;
And so she made a little coat
And brought it to him every year.

But you, my little girl, can learn,
While you are sitting close by me,
Of heaven, and that kind God above,
Who made in love each thing we see.

And you should thank Him every day,
That you can here His goodness know;
And from your pleasant, happy home,
And your dear parents, need not go.

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