A FACE.

Between the curtains of snowy lace, Over the way is a baby’s face; It peeps forth, smiling in merry glee, And waves its pink little hand at me.

My heart responds with a lonely cry— But in the wonderful By-and-By— Out from the window of God’s “To Be,” That other baby shall beckon to me.

That ever haunting and longed-for face, That perfect vision of infant grace, Shall shine on me in a splendor of light, Never to fade from my eager sight.

All that was taken shall be made good; All that puzzles me understood; And the wee white hand that I lost, one day, Shall lead me into the Better Way.