From The Times Dispatch, May 10, 1914. By H. D. C. MacLachlan.
A little child with lessons all unlearned,
And problems all unsolved, before me stands.
With tired, puzzled face to me upturned,
She holds her slate within her outstretched hands.
“My sums are hard; I cannot think tonight;
Dear Father, won’t you make the answers right?”
And so I come to Thee, O Father dear;
My lessons are so hard, my brain so weak;
Life’s problems are unsolved, my way not clear,
The answers wrong. Thy wisdom I would seek;
I am so tired and sad and worn tonight—
Oh, take my life and make the answers right!