99 Balloons

A Child Of Mine (To All Parents)
Edgar Guest

I will lend you, for a little time,
A child of mine, He said.
For you to love the while he lives,
And mourn for when he's dead.
It may be six or seven years,
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care of him for Me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you,
And should his stay be brief.
You'll have his lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over,
In search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labour vain.
Nor hate me when I come
To take him home again?
I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'
For all the joys Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him,
Much sooner than we've planned.
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand.


I post this in memory of Silas Boaz Blackburn, who I learned more from than any 2-year old in the world. When life seems at it's worse, he lends his smile to my memory to remind me how good God is. Thanks for all you taught us, Silas...

The True Man

By Edgar Guest

“This is the sort of a man was he:
True when it hurt him a lot to be;
Tight in a corner an' knowin' a lie
'Would have helped him out, but he wouldn't buy
His freedom there in so cheap a way
He told the truth though he had to pay.
Honest! Not in the easy sense,
When he needn't worry about expense

We'll all play square when it doesn't count
And the sum at stake's not a large amount
But he was square when the times were bad,
And keepin' his word took all he had.
Honor is something we all profess,
But most of us cheat --- some more, some less
And the real test isn't the way we do
When there isn't a pinch in either shoe;

It's whether we're true to our best or not
When the right thing's certain to hurt a lot.
That is the sort of a man was he:
Straight when it hurt him a lot to be;
Times when a lie would have paid him well,
No matter the cost, the truth he'd tell;
An' he'd rather go down to a drab defeat
Than save himself if he had to cheat.

God's Will for Me

Should I think beyond God's will for me
And dare to fall as prey
To future days too far from me
And miss God's perfect way?

Should I think above God's will for me
As though there is a place
That I could reach by my own lead
Surpassing God's daily grace?

Should I think behind God's will for me
And wonder how it would measure
If I returned God's will to flee
And wish for seeming pleasure?

Should I think around God's will for me
That other ways be known
Than the way I know and plainly see
That God has clearly shown?

Or should I rest on eagles wings
And determine not to wrest
The design with which God fulfills all things
And wait--cause He knows best?