The frost was biting his little feet,
And his lips were blue with cold,
As he trudged along by his mother’s side―
A mite about six years old.
The coat he wore was shabby and bare,
And his knickers none too good;
And I saw beneath his curly hair
That tears in his blue eyes stood.
He carried a bundle, far too large
For a child so small and slight;
Both little arms were round it thrown,
Determined to hold it tight.
“Oh, mother, this bundle is so big,”
He said, with a weary sigh―
“And ‘tis so heavy” ―the words were lost,
In a feeble little cry.
On the mother’s arm a baby lay
Asleep in unconscious bliss;
And I saw her stoop, in tender love,
And give it a gentle kiss.
On her strong right arm a basket hung,
Laden with meat and bread;
She had not a hand to help the lad,
So she cheered him with words instead.
“Never mind, sonny, we’ll soon be home now,
And Dad will be waiting there;”
Something she added in cheery tones―
What it was I could scarcely hear.
But as I passed down the wind-swept street
My spirit felt strangely free,
For all I had heard and seen just then
Was a parable to me.
My spirit all day had burdened been
With a sense of weight and care;
And now and again a passing blast
Of sad, foreboding fear.
That mother’s words to her little lad―
Though tired as she could be—
Spoken so cheery and bright withal―
Seemed to give new life to me.
They lifted my thoughts from burdens here
To the Home of light above;
To the welcome sure in the Father’s heart,
That heart of unmeasured love!
“We shall soon be home now” ―O, blissful
words―
What visions of joy they bring;
From darkness and storm to the radiant
morn,
In the Home of our Savior and King.
“We shall soon be home now” ―the Father’s
house
Is coming more clearly in view;
His promise shines bright through the
dark’ning night―
“I am coming, yes, coming for you!”
“Soon be home now,” yes, soon be home
now!
The signs are increasingly clear;
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand,”
When Jesus our Lord will appear.