I saw a child cry today.
His tears could not be wiped away
Though every loving tact was tried.
He drained those loving by his side.
They could not hear the child's need
Despite his hearty, howling plead
And certainty in his despair.
(Really, he's not of much aware.)
How frequent when I find I pray
And know not what to ask or say
My God whose Son was sent and died,
Reveals to me my selfish pride.
A perfect One is He indeed,
Who knows exactly every need.
"Abba, Father," Thank you for your care:
For your own Son and His despair.