“Cradle Song,” Ensign, Mar. 1985, 62
Lullaby, my child, and let me love
Your sleeping purity, so innocent
Of all the conflict I have felt this day.
Sleep now, and let me smile to recollect
The tides that left a treasure on my shore.
The flows of guilt and subsequent resolve
Come later in the quiet time alone
With God: my anger at my anger with
My charge, my child. Are you the grain of sand,
My irritant, that I must make a pearl?
Lullaby. Then let your lustre glow—
Divinity I seldom see by day
(My pride, your willfulness obscure the sheen)—
While I remember what I love in you.
And if I grudge to bear the oyster’s part,
I but forget the artist without art
Is nothing; and my Lord, if I do well,
Will love the gem and magnify the shell.