Memories of a Country Mother

Are All the Children In?
The darkness falls, the wind is high.Dense black clouds fill the sky,The storm will soon begin.The thunder’s roar, the lightning’s flash,I hear the great, round raindrops dash.
Are all the children in?
They are coming softly to my side. Their forms within my arms I hide.No other arms are sure.The storm may rage with fury wild,With trusting faith, each little child, With mother, feels secure.
But future days are drawing near.They will go from this warm shelter here,Out into the world’s wild din.The rain will fall, the cold wind blow,I’ll sit alone and long to know…
Are all the children in?
Will they have shelter? Are they secure,Where hearts are waiting, strong and sure,And one is true and tried?Or will they find a broken reed?When strength of heart they so much need,To help them brave the tide.God knows it all; His will is best.I’ll shield them now and yield the rest.
In His most gracious hands,Sometimes the souls He loves are riven By tempest wild, and thus are driven Near the wild, and thus, are driven Near the better land.
If He should call me home before The children land on that blest shore, Afar from care and sin. I know that I shall watch and wait, Till He, the keeper of the Gate, Lets all the children in.