Suffer Little Children

Children bound to toil and tears.
Thought the shame of former years.
Woe, the heart that never hears.
Some are fettered still.

Children bent to rake and hoe;
Torn from play by plague’s death-throe.
Scratching dust to make it grow.
Some are fettered still.

Children weighed with coat and gun;
Warlord’s whims to serve and run.
Mocking death ere day is done.
Some are fettered still.

Children pulled from Mother’s breast;
Mother, back to work impressed.
Hurried plans leave them no rest.
Some are fettered still.

Children made the sport of night;
Pawns of lust, but out of sight.
Forced by fiends who once seemed right.
Some are fettered still.

Children never taught to pray;
Taught to live Redemption’s way.
Starving souls with Hell to pay.
Some are fettered still.

Children bound to toil and tears.
Thought the shame of former years.
Woe, the heart that never hears.
Some are fettered still.

 

Doug Blair, Waterloo, Ontario

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