WHAT WOULD YOU TAKE?

What would you take for that round curly head,
And ringlets all dangling with pink ribbons tied;
For that bright little face with a smile all lit up,
Or her two sparkling eyes when they open so wide,
What would you take?

What would you take for that little round mouth
When it pouts in displeasure or yell with delight;
As she chatters all day in her own simple way,
Or puckers her lips for a kiss at good night.
What would you take?

What would you take for her fingers so small
As you spy little marks on your paintwork so fair,
Or a dish when it falls to the floor with a crash,
Ad she looks in your eyes with a look of despair.
What would you take?

What would yo take as each day she grows up,
And toddles around on her two little feet;
When she listens at night-fall a footstep to hear
Then runs to the doorway her Daddy to greet,
What would you take?

What would yo take for her when day is done,
And she lies fast asleep in her own little cot,
As you think of her mischief, her chatter and fun,
Then whispers a prayer for your dear little tot;
Say, what would you take?

December, 1943

HARVEST THANKSGIVING HYMN

Creator of this earth below
We come to Thee our vows to pay,
May each and every heart o'er flow
With thankfulness this festal day.

Father accept the thanks we give
To Thee for all Thy love and care,
For this fair land in which we live,
And all earth's blessings that we share.

All comes from Thee at Thy command,
The early and the latter rain;
Thy bounteous goodness fills the land
With waving fields of ripening grain.

Lord of the harvest by whose hand
Thy children day by day are fed,
Enrich the poor in every land,
Give them each day their daily bread.

O Thou from whom all goodness flow
Help us to choose that better part,
Grant that in each of us may grow
The gift of love in every heart.

O may this fair Dominion be
Kept free from famine, war and stress,
And may there rise from sea to sea
Glad songs of praise and thankfulness.

This hymn was sung in St. Chad's Church, Harvest Thanksgiving Sunday, October 3, 1943

A PRAYER IN VERSE

Dear Lord and Saviour, hear our humble prayer,
We seek They guidance through a world of sin;
Be Thou our strength, and shield from every snare,
From foes without, and lurking fears within.

No goodness of our own have we to please,
We are not worthy of they mercies, Lord;
But Thou will hear the prayers of those in need,
As Thou has promised in They faithful Word.

We pray for those in trouble, and distress,
And weary souls all longing to be free;
May they at last repose in peaceful rest,
And find their consummation, Lord in thee.

For those we pray who falter on life's way,
And find their daily cross so hard to bear;
O keep, and guide them to a better day,
And grant them rest and peace from toil, and care.

We pray for faith to chase all gloom, and doubt,
And hope to trust Thee through all earthly life;
For perfect love that will all fears cast out,
A threefold strength to shield us in the strife.

And when at last our course on earth is run,
Dear Father may we find our rest in Thee;
And dwell forever with they blessed Son,
And Holy Spirit through eternity.

January, 1943

BLESSINGS

How sweet the memories of the past
When we were young and free,
And every day was just the same,
The time passed merrily.

How sweet is sleep when tired limbs,
And brain repose to rest;
Some from their hard and honest toil,
And some from care and stress.

How sweet the sunshine, and the air
After the summer rain,
So we ourselves finds sweet relief
In pleasure after pain.

How sweet is health, and strength each day
To do our daily task,
A quiet mind, a peaceful home,
What more have we to ask.

How sweet to live in a peaceful land
Secure from war's alarms,
And lay us down in peace each night
With neither fear, or harm.

How sweet to have a hearth and home
Though poor our lot may be;
And share each others joys and griefs,
Dwelling in harmony.

How sweet to have a steadfast faith
In a better world to come,
And live each day in simple trust
Until our course is run.

How sweet if we live to grow old
Though memory's not the best,
To have a sane and quiet mind,
And later, peaceful rest.

August, 1943