I never thought that Bill could say br A proper prayer; br 'Twas more in his hard-bitten way br To cuss and swear; br Yet came the night when Baby Ted br Was bitter ill, br I tip-toed to his tiny bed, br And there was Bill. br br Aye, down upon his bended knees br I heard him cry: br "O God, don't take my kiddy, please! br Don't let him die!" br Then softly so he would not see, br I shrank away: br He would have been so shamed for me br To see him pray. br br Men-folk are queer: Bill acts up tough, br Yet how it's odd, br When things are looking downright rough br He tunes to God. br "The Parson and the Priest be darned!" br I've heard him say: br Yet when his baby is concerned br He's quick to pray. br br Maybe it's gentle parent-hood br That gives us grace, br And in its sacrificial mood br Uplifts the race. br Of sentiment, all self above, br That goodness sums br I think the saving best is Love br For little ones.