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,

 "'T is I, O Father! only I"?