To Lochiel

Dear little babe, of all born things alive,
Most helpless thou — of life a slender thread.
Can such as thee so rough a sea survive,
And come at last the way all feet must tread?

Yea! by the God whom I adore above,
If I could fix thy destiny by choice
Thou wouldst be safe, my little love.
'Tis Love ineffable I wrap thee in

To pitiless pain, and ache, and storm, and blast,
I'd bare my soul to save thy feet from sin,
And bring thee safely home, Lochiel, at last.
But, in thy chancing boon of birth, thy whole
And everlasting destiny of life
Lies in thy self-directing soul.