At The Door

I thought myself, indeed, secure So fast the door, so firm the lock; But, lo! he toddling comes to lure My parent ear with timorous knock.

My heart were stone could it withstand The sweetness of my baby’s plea,-- That timorous, baby knocking and “Please let me in,--it’s only me.”

I threw aside the unfinished book, Regardless of its tempting charms, And, opening wide the door, I took My laughing darling in my arms.

Who knows but in Eternity, I, like a truant child, shall wait The glories of a life to be, Beyond the Heavenly Father’s gate?

And will that Heavenly Father heed The truant’s supplicating cry, As at the outer door I plead, “‘Tis I, O Father! only I?”