The soul of a child
is the loveliest flower
That grows in the Garden of God.
Its climb is from weakness
to knowledge and power
To the sky from the clay to the clod.
To beauty and sweetness
it grows under care
Neglected, 'tis ragged and wild.
'Tis a plant that is tender,
but wondrously rare;
The sweet wistful soul of a child.
Be tender, O gardener,
and give it its share
Of moisture, of warmth and of light,
And let it not lack
for painstaking care
To protect it from frost and from blight.
A glad day will come
when its bloom shall unfold,
It will seem that an Angel has smiled;
Reflecting a beauty
and sweetness untold
In the sensitive soul of a child.