<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407877" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Best</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mother, I see you with your nursery light,<br>Leading your babies, all in white,<br>To their sweet rest;<br>Christ, the Good Shepherd, carries mine tonight,<br>And that is best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cannot help tears when I see them twine<br>Their fingers in yours, and their bright curls shine<br>On your warm breast.<br>But the Saviour's is purer than yours or mine.<br>He can love best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You tremble each hour because your arms<br>Are weak; your heart is wrung with alarms<br>And sore opprest:<br>My darlings are safe, out of reach of harm<br>And that is best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You know over yours may hang even now<br>Pain and disease, whose fulfilling slow,<br>Naught can arrest.<br>Mine in God's gardens run to and fro,<br>And that is best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You know that of yours, your feeblest one<br>And dearest, may live long years alone,<br>Unloved, unblest.<br>Mine entered spotless on eternal years,<br>Oh, how much the best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But grief is selfish; I cannot see<br>Always why I should stricken be,<br>More than the rest:<br>But I know that, as well as for them, for me <br>God did the best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Helen+Hunt+Jackson">Helen Hunt Jackson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407877" data-title="Best de Helen Hunt Jackson" data-description="Mother, I see you with your nursery light, Leading your babies, all in white, To their sweet rest; Christ, the Good Shepherd, carries mine tonight, And that is best. I cannot help tears when I see them twine Their fingers in yours, and their brig..."></div> </div> </div>

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