Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Abram JosephRyan

741 A Child’s Wish

I WISH I were the little key

That locks Love’s Captive in,

And lets Him out to go and free

A sinful heart from sin.

I wish I were the little bell

That tinkles for the Host,

When God comes down each day to dwell

With hearts He loves the most.

I wish I were the chalice fair,

That holds the Blood of Love,

When every gleam lights holy prayer

Upon its way above.

I wish I were the little flower

So near the Host’s sweet face,

Or like the light that half an hour

Burns on the shrine of grace.

I wish I were the altar where,

As on His mother’s breast,

Christ nestles, like a child, fore’er

In Eucharistic rest.

But, oh! my God, I wish the most

That my poor heart may be

A home all holy for each Host

That comes in love to me.