Down in the city, close to the river.
	Where poverty, squalor and crime are rife,
Close to the bank where the mud is blackest,
	A tiny leaflet sprang to life.
The warm spring rains, the soft spring sunshine,
	The gentle winds and morning dew:
Each helped it struggle to glorious promise,
	Till a slender stalk of beauty grew.
Each evening found it a little stronger,
	Each morn it turned to the sunlight,
When lo, on a wondrous Easter morning.
	A beautiful lily blossomed white.

Down in the city, close to the river,
	Down where there’s crime and sin and shame,
In a lonely home with the meanest comforts,
	A lovely blue-eyed baby came.
The Master knew and He sent His sunbeams,
	Down from His glorious home above,
The tiny babe in its lowly shelter,
	Was clothed with beauty, warm and love,
Years have passed and a gentle woman,
	Scatters seeds of His loving care,
Down where there’s need to toll for the Master,
	In after years He found her there.

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

Copyright Roy Richard