Born - A Daughter

"A Daughter!

Well, what brought her?"
Kitty asks. "How came she here? "
Half with joy and half with fear,
Kitty is our eldest child -
Eight years old, and rather wild -
Wild in manner, but in mind
Wishing all things well defined.

''Last night I did not see her, father,
Or I'm sure I had much rather
Stayed at home, as still as a mouse.
Than played all day at grandma's house.
She is so pretty, and so tiny -
And what makes her face so shiny?
Will it always be like that?
Will she swell up, plump and fat,
Like my little doll? or tall.
Like my wax one? tell me all
About her, papa dear,
For I do so love to hear
Where she came from, and who brought her,
Yours and mamma's brand-new daughter."

A daughter! another daughter!
And the question is, "What brought her?"
Spence, our boy, but three years old,
Says the nurse did, and is bold 

In defiance of them both,
Since to yield his place he's loth;
And, pouting, feels his nose's point.
When I declare 'tis out of joint.

But though the childish explanation
Be food enough for child's vexation.
We older folks must better find
To feed the hunger of the mind;
To us, of larger issues preaching,
This link of life eternal, reaching
From earth to heaven, this new-born soul
Come, fresh from whence forever roll
It's countless years through yonder heaven,
Has deeper cause for thinking given.

A daughter!
Whatever else - she comes to bring
A blessing in her life's young spring.
" No matter, darling - she is here -
Our daughter, sister, baby dear!
Open your hearts, and let her enter,
Open them wide, for God hath sent her."

Creation's Constant Love

       A broader view of life, a grander meaning of the word, is growing in the understanding of mankind. There is a growing confidence that a great love like a mother's love pervades the Universe. This perfect love that casts out fear is bringing us a definition of life large enough to include death as merely one of life's incidents, and thus the fear of death as a moving factor in the minds of men is passing away. Mother-love, love like a mother's, has for ages bridged the river of death for the heart, till now the understanding is following where the heart has led.

       All that modern science and learning is doing to dispel the mists of ignorance (where fear hides) is adding strength to that growing confidence in which love may breathe, the true, unselfish love, the mother-love that knows no fear. The following lines of deep meaning are from the pen of Leopold Schaffer:

All that God owns he constantly is healing.

Quietly, gently, softly, but most surely;

He helps the lowliest herb with wounded stalk

To rise again. See! from the heavens fly down,

All gentle powers to cure the blinded lamb.

Deep in the treasure-house of wealthy nature

A ready instinct wakes and moves

To clothe the naked sparrow in the nest.

Or trim the plumage of an aged raven.

Yea, in the slow decaying of a rose

God works as well as in the unfolding bud:

He works with gentleness unspeakable

In death itself‚ a thousand times more careful,

Even as the mother by her sick child watching.

The Prophecy of Mother-Love

       As in the blade of grass and in the smallest herb, the first years of our globe gave signs of the coming  tree; as in the first drops of rain there was the promise of a coming ocean; as in the little garden of Eden there lay the prophecy of future homes, so the earliest instincts and affections of animal life were advance heralds of a profound devotion destined to appear in the form of a mother's love. Each wild beast which to the death would defend its young, each bird that screamed and fluttered when an enemy approached its nest, said in distinct accents that Nature was preparing the way for that sublime sentiment‚ human love. No wonder, then, that when writers, sacred or profane, have desired to convey some adequate notion of the love of God for His universe, they have always asked us to look upon a mother and her child. In that love we find all the heights and depths of sentiment, and when we have compared God to a loving mother, we can say no more‚ our richest emblem is then exhausted. By Professor Swing.

A Proclamation

By The President of The United States of America

       Whereas, By a Joint Resolution approved May 8, 1914, "designating the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day, and for other purposes," the President is authorized and requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the government buildings, and the people of the United States to display the flag at their homes or other suitable places on the second Sunday in May as public expression of our love and reverence for the mother of our country;

       And Whereas, By the said Joint Resolution it is made duty of the President to request the observance of the second Sunday in May as provided for in the said Joint Resolution:

       Now, Therefore, I Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the said Joint Resolution, do hereby direct the government buildings and do invite the people of the United States to display the flag at their homes or other suitable places on the second Sunday in May as a public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country. 

       In witness whereof I have set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be hereunto affixed.

       Done at the city of Washington this ninth day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fourteen, and the Independence of the United States one hundred and thrity-eight.

Woodrow Wilson.
By the President:
William Jennings Bryan,
Secretary of State.
(Seal)

The History Behind Mother's Day

An Easter Greeting To Every Child Who Loves "Alice"

Dear Child:

       Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter, from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can seem to yourself to hear, wishing you, as I do now with all my heart, a happy Easter.

       Do you know that delicious, dreamy feeling, when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window, when, lying lazily with eyes half shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or waters rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one's eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. And is not that a mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise?, to rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark‚ to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend who sends you the beautiful sun?

       Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as Alice? And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It may be so. Some perhaps may blame one for thus mixing together things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on Sunday; but I think‚ nay, I am sure‚ that some children will read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit in which I have written it.

       For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves‚ to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out of place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer; and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the " dim, religious light " of some solemn cathedral.

       And if I have written anything to add to those stories of innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the children I love so well, it is surely something I may hope to look back upon without shame and sorrow (as how much of life must then be recalled!) when my turn comes to walk through the valley of shadows.

       This Easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your "life in every limb," and eager to rush out into the fresh morning air‚ and many an Easter-day will come and go before it finds you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once more in the sunlight; but it is good, even now, to think sometimes of that great morning when the " Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings."

       Surely your gladness need not be less for the thought that you will one day see a brighter dawn than this‚ when lovelier sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling waters‚ when angel hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter tones than ever loving mother breathed shall wake you to a new and glorious day‚ and when all the sadness and the sin that darkened this life on this little earth shall be forgotten like the dreams of a night that is past!

Your affectionate friend,
Easter, 1876. Lewis Carroll.

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