From out a bundle in the old red chestI found some baby-clothes that called the tears.They brought so many precious memories forth,Sweet, precious memories of by-gone years.A little shirt so tiny that the sleevesWould always seem to, laughing, whisper low,“We were the first you made: we did not growIn length nor breadth; and when the baby grewWe were laid by to serve a baby new.”That little shirt! The tiny hem-stitched frontCovered the little heart whose fluttering beatWas like a captive bird; nor did I knowThe years would come, years sorrowful and sweet,When I, in pain, my weary head would restAgainst that heart, and on those arms so blest.O little sleeves! the arms you circled then,I kissed and dressed; they dress me now. AgainThe old-time tenderness comes o’er me with a thrillShe is the stronger; yet my darling still.O little shirt, too worn to give away;Too dear to waste; still with my keepsakes stay,With the wee stockings and the short pink dress,Hid in the bundle, still my heart to bless,By bringing back the rainbow baby daysWhen God first taught me mother-thought and praise.These little clothes bring back the time to meWhen, full of wonder and of hope, I thoughtThe coming treasure, that pure gift of GodFor which, in prayer, my earnest heart had sought,Would cheer me with a joy that only shinesIn mother-hearts, where Love’s most costly minesAre thrown wide open to be gathered freeFor baby lips and baby eyes to see.Yes, I remember all, dear little clothes,You’ve roused a thousand memories from repose;And like the sweetest music of the past,You breathe a song that must forever last.A song re-echoed ever here below;A song to follow me when I shall goTo that glad Home where parting is no more,And greet my children on the fadeless shore.
From out a bundle in the old red chestI found some baby-clothes that called the tears.They brought so many precious memories forth,Sweet, precious memories of by-gone years.A little shirt so tiny that the sleevesWould always seem to, laughing, whisper low,“We were the first you made: we did not growIn length nor breadth; and when the baby grewWe were laid by to serve a baby new.”That little shirt! The tiny hem-stitched frontCovered the little heart whose fluttering beatWas like a captive bird; nor did I knowThe years would come, years sorrowful and sweet,When I, in pain, my weary head would restAgainst that heart, and on those arms so blest.O little sleeves! the arms you circled then,I kissed and dressed; they dress me now. AgainThe old-time tenderness comes o’er me with a thrillShe is the stronger; yet my darling still.O little shirt, too worn to give away;Too dear to waste; still with my keepsakes stay,With the wee stockings and the short pink dress,Hid in the bundle, still my heart to bless,By bringing back the rainbow baby daysWhen God first taught me mother-thought and praise.These little clothes bring back the time to meWhen, full of wonder and of hope, I thoughtThe coming treasure, that pure gift of GodFor which, in prayer, my earnest heart had sought,Would cheer me with a joy that only shinesIn mother-hearts, where Love’s most costly minesAre thrown wide open to be gathered freeFor baby lips and baby eyes to see.Yes, I remember all, dear little clothes,You’ve roused a thousand memories from repose;And like the sweetest music of the past,You breathe a song that must forever last.A song re-echoed ever here below;A song to follow me when I shall goTo that glad Home where parting is no more,And greet my children on the fadeless shore.
From out a bundle in the old red chest
I found some baby-clothes that called the tears.
They brought so many precious memories forth,
Sweet, precious memories of by-gone years.
A little shirt so tiny that the sleeves
Would always seem to, laughing, whisper low,
“We were the first you made: we did not grow
In length nor breadth; and when the baby grew
We were laid by to serve a baby new.”
That little shirt! The tiny hem-stitched front
Covered the little heart whose fluttering beat
Was like a captive bird; nor did I know
The years would come, years sorrowful and sweet,
When I, in pain, my weary head would rest
Against that heart, and on those arms so blest.
O little sleeves! the arms you circled then,
I kissed and dressed; they dress me now. Again
The old-time tenderness comes o’er me with a thrill
She is the stronger; yet my darling still.
O little shirt, too worn to give away;
Too dear to waste; still with my keepsakes stay,
With the wee stockings and the short pink dress,
Hid in the bundle, still my heart to bless,
By bringing back the rainbow baby days
When God first taught me mother-thought and praise.
These little clothes bring back the time to me
When, full of wonder and of hope, I thought
The coming treasure, that pure gift of God
For which, in prayer, my earnest heart had sought,
Would cheer me with a joy that only shines
In mother-hearts, where Love’s most costly mines
Are thrown wide open to be gathered free
For baby lips and baby eyes to see.
Yes, I remember all, dear little clothes,
You’ve roused a thousand memories from repose;
And like the sweetest music of the past,
You breathe a song that must forever last.
A song re-echoed ever here below;
A song to follow me when I shall go
To that glad Home where parting is no more,
And greet my children on the fadeless shore.
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