Mix and sift and stir and bake,
What goes into a birthday cake?
Eggs and butter and all things sweet,
Only a mother could plan this treat—
And as I’m 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 hath mixed and planned
A life for our boy, with its tears and song;
It is perfectly wise, and it cannot be long.
It leads to Home in the glory land,
If only he follow where God hath planned.
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 sifted be, but he cannot fall
If he comes to 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 the tender love of his little heart,
Of Thy lovingkindness as counterpart.
I kneel to commit this birthday treat
To the oven’s fervent baking heat,
And my heart goes up to Another One
Who had a beloved only Son.
The fire of judgment, His loved One bore,
That our son might be pardoned for evermore.
Mix and sift and stir and bake,
Love goes into a birthday cake,
And if here I must brush a tear with my hand,
The love He gave He will understand,
For as I’m working, I think and pray
For our dear little son, who is one today.
ML 08/27/1950