My Class

NOT one, but all, my God,

I give them all to thee!

Wilt thou not take them, Lord,

And save both them and me 

There is that little one,

With such a tender frame,

We see the pure, white soul,

I need not tell her name.

And oftentimes I fear

That short her life will be;

But whether longer short,

May it be all for thee.

There is my darling one,

The life of all the rest;

I try to love alike,

But fear I love her best.

Save her, 0 Lord! I know

Her beauty is a snare;

I tremble for her soul

Dear Father, hear my prayer.

And then, the questioning one

Who searches mysteries,

And seeks out every cause

In great men's histories.

Her questions show such deep,

Such sifting, earnest thought,

I cannot answer her

With words such as I ought.

In searching, may she find

The Author of all truth;

And dedicate to thee,

Her happy, gifted youth.

The careless little girl,

With temper unsubdued,

Frank, loving, yet so wild

My words do her no good.

Yet thou canst touch her heart;

Oh, break her stubborn will!

Yet do it gently, Lord,

I could not wish her ill.

Not one, but all, my God!

Each child, yea, every one;

I ask it only through

The merits of thy Son.

Amelia Williams.