Poems (Hale)/To a sleeping Infant

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TO A SLEEPING INFANT.
Vision of purity and grace!Upon whose lineaments we traceThe image of that perfect mindWithin thy tiny form enshrined,How yearns my heart in tenderness,Thy opening, onward path to bless!
Bright are the skies above thee spread,Sweet are the flowers around thee shed.Thy stainless cheek, this blessed rest,May image well thy infant breast.The untroubled depths of life's fair streamReflect alone heaven's radiant beam.
Child of a mother's ceaseless care,Of trembling hope and fervent prayer! ​What destiny is thine below,Our bounded vision may not know:Vain is the spirit's highest loreThe untrodden future to explore.
Silent His perfect will we wait,Who watches o'er thy coming fate,With more than father's faithful eye,Or mother's gushing sympathy;Who hears the ravens as they call,And marks the tender sparrow's fall.
Seek for that jewel rich and rare,Which comes, and comes alone, by prayer,—His strengthening grace in danger's hour,His sheltering love when tempests lower:So shall the certain path be trod,Which leads to glory and to God.
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