The children's angels always view
Their Heavenly Father's face;
His joyful messengers and true,
In Providence and Grace:--

To guard our feeble steps; to keep
From harm our living breath,
Watch o'er our senses while we sleep,
And waft us home in death.

But not to angels' care alone
Poor children are consign'd;
To God Himself our wants are known,
The Lord to us is kind.

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Yes;--every comfort here below,
And every hope above;
All that we have and are, we owe
To His unfailing love.

Then let us act as in His sight,
And on our humble way
Walk in the liberty of light,
As children of the day.

Young though we be and in the prime
Of life's unfolding powers,
Of all the moments of our time,
This, only this is ours.

We seize it, Lord, before 'tis past;
We yield ourselves to Thee;
Thine be our earliest years, our last,
And our eternity.