Child of my love, lean hard,
And let me feel the pressure of thy care.
I know thy burden, child, I shaped it,
Poised in my own hand, made no proportion
In its weight to thy unladed strength;
For soon as I laid it on, I said,
`I shall be near and when he leans on me,
This burden shall be mine, not his.'
So shall I keep my child within the circling arms
Of mine own love. Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come:
Thou art not near enough: I would embrace thy care,
So I might feel my child reposing on my breast.
Thou lovest me! I know it! Doubt not then,
But, loving me lean hard.
(Ps. 55. 22; 1 Pet. 5. 7)