Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Cry, My Little Toby

I’d like to tell you now, sweet little child,
A story that was written long ago,
About another baby, sweet and mild
Who was born into this world of grief and woe.
His mother, too, had many sleepless nights
Pondering the words the angel gave,
So troubled by the cries of Heaven’s Light –
Her little Man of Sorrows on the hay.

I’d like to tell you how He grew to be
The Living Water and the Living Bread;
This Man of truth and sweet humility
Forgave and healed the sick, and raised the dead.
I’d like to tell you that they loved Him for
His ways of peace and for his honesty,
But truth is sometimes traded for a lie,
And hands of peace are hammered to a tree.

I’d like to tell you, child, that life is fair –
That in this world there is no cause to cry
But there are griefs to cross, and a cross to bear
Before you’ll reach that heavenly by and by;
So cry, my little Toby, if you must,
But know that you will never cry alone
Your daddy prays that you will someday trust
That Man of Sorrows who can lead you home.

Your daddy prays that you will come to trust
This Child Emmanuel to lead you home,
So cry, my little Toby, if you must,
But know that you will never cry alone.

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