In the legends of the Norsemen,
Stories quaint and weird and wild,
There's a strange and thrilling story,
Of a mother and her child.
And that child, so runs the story,
In those quaint old Norsemen books,
Fell one day from dangerous play ground,
Dashed in pieces on the rocks;
But with gentle hand that mother
Gathered every tender part,
Bore them gently, torn and bleeding,
On her loving mother heart.
And within her humble dwelling,
Strong in faith and brave of soul,
With her love-song low and tender
Rocked and sang the fragments whole.
Such the mission of the Christian,
Taught by Christ so long ago;
This the mark that bids us stay not,
This the spirit each should know:
Rent and torn by sin the race is,
Heart from heart, and soul from soul;
This our task with Christ's sweet love-song,
Join, and heal, and make them whole.

--_Rev. E. M. Bartlett_


Verses