Baby, so white.

For thou shalt travel where sorrow and strife
Never shall darken thy pathway again.
Azael must take home to the Lord of Life
The darlings He bought on the cross with pain.
Ah! you smile, little one.
Pleasure and glory for you are won,
Near to the angels, you're not afraid
Of going with me far into the shade.
The casket grows cold,
The jewel I hold,
For hearts of love.

Come along with me, thou trader in gold,
Many have turned from thy office to-day.
Thou hast no time to consider the claim
Of the wronged or helpless who crossed thy way.
You shudder, trembling one.
Close up the ledger, business is done.
Let you stay till your vessel comes in?
I'll take you far from the market's din,
And you'll have time,
In that strange clime,
To meditate.

For thou wilt awaken, I would not hold.
If I could, the past from memory's ken.
I fancy that other ledgers unfold,
Their pages for some of you business men;