We sang some sweet school-songs, and then our loved pastor,
With other dear friends who were there,
Told us kindly of Jesus, the Savior and Master;
Of God, and his fatherly care;
Who planted the trees that were waving around us,
And the wild flowers growing below;
Who all our life long with rich blessings had crowned us,
And watched us where'er we might go.
Then, mother, I heard all around me a whisp'ring,
And soon I found out what it meant;
When to hallow our Pic-nic, the sweet rite of christ'ning
Its soft, holy influence lent.
Forth from the glad circle, their sweet infants bringing,
Came parents, with mild, thoughtful mien;
What deep, tender thoughts in all bosoms were springing!
How solemn, how sacred the scene.
And I could not keep back the hot tears, my dear mother,
Which came thick and fast to my eyes;
For those babes made me think of my own darling brother,
Now gone to his home in the skies.
When this service was over, my playmates came round
And drew me away to the wood;
No longer light-hearted and merry they found me,
For thoughtful and sad was my mood.
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