To A Child Poem by Anonymous British

Things of high import sound I in thine ears,
Dear child, though now thou may'st not feel their power;
But hoard them up, and in thy coming years
Forget them not; and when earth's tempests lour,
A talisman unto thee shall they be,
To give thy weak arm strength - to make thy dim eye see.

Seek Truth - that pure celestial Truth whose birth
Was in the heaven of heavens, clear, sacred, shrined
In Reason's light: not oft she visits earth,
But her majestic port, the willing mind,
Through faith, may sometimes see. Give her thy soul,
Nor faint, though Error's surges loudly 'gainst thee roll.

Be free.- Not chiefly from the iron chain,
But from the one which passion forges - be
The master of thyself. If lost, regain
The rule o'er chance, sense, circumstance. Be free,
Trample thy proud lusts proudly 'neath thy feet,
And stand erect, as for a heaven-born one is meet.

Seek Virtue.- Wear her armour to the fight;
Then, as a wrestler gathers strength from strife,
Shalt thou be nerved to a more vigorous might
By each contending turbulent ill of life.
Seek Virtue.- She alone is all divine;
And having found, be strong, in God's own strength and thine.

Truth- freedom- virtue- these, dear child, have power,
If rightly cherish'd, to uphold, sustain,
And bless thy spirit, in its darkest hour;
Neglect them - thy celestial gifts are vain-
In dust shall thy weak wing be dragg'd and soil'd;
Thy soul be crush'd 'neath gauds for which it basely toil'd.