I mix and I stir and I sift and bake.
What goes into a birthday cake?
Eggs and butter and all things sweet,
Only a mother can make this treat—
As I am working, I think and pray
For our dear little boy who is one today.
I think, as I mix with a steady hand,
How God the Father has mixed and planned
A life for our boy with its tears and song;
Its perfectly wise and it can't be long.
It leads to Home in the glory-land,
If only he'll follow where God has planned.
And now, as I sift the fine white flour,
I pray for our son in temptation's hour:
Teach him to come to the throne of grace
And seek Thy help in the humble place.
He may be sifted, but cannot fall
If he comes unto Thee as his all in all.
I stir in the milk, like Thy holy Word,
Which from a child his ears have heard,
And I pray that his soul thereby may grow
And be stirred to care for Thine own below
With tender love of his little heart,
Of Thy loving-kindness the counterpart.
I kneel to commit this birthday treat
To the oven's fervent baking heat,
And my heart goes up to another One
Who has a beloved and only Son.
The fire of judgment, His loved one bore,
That our sin might be pardoned evermore.
I mix and I sift and I stir and bake;
Love goes into a birthday cake,
And if here I must brush a tear with my hand,
The love that He gave He will understand,
As I am working, I think and pray
For our dear little son, who is one today.