In Memory of Mary Elizabeth Bedinger (1958-1966)

             THE LITTLE GIRL THAT MEETS ME
​

There's a little girl that meets me,
And with laughter ever greets me,
And to kiss her oft entreats me,
As I stray
"Long the path of life so dreary,
Where the maddened heart and weary,
Shades the sunlight shining near me,
On my way.

She has eyes as bright as heaven,
(Only aged about seven,)
But unto her God has given
Such a heart,
That forever she is singing,
And her sweet voice ever ringing,
Beauty o'er the rapt heart bringing,
Sweet as art.

With her sunny hair, so curly,
With her teeth so white and pearly,
I have met her late and early,
By the way,
And I take her hand and press it
In my own, just to caress it --
"Pretty little hand -- God bless it!"
I do say.

May the world smile kindly on her,
Benedictions fall upon her,
Angels be her guard of honor,
As she goes
Through this world of ours singing,
Peace to troubled spirits bringing,
No grief her pure heart wringing
With its woes.

May the sweetest harp in Heaven --
Brightest crown that e'er was given,
Where the waves of life are driven
Past the throne --
Echo to her dainty finger,
'Pon her pure brow ever linger,
While each Angel be a singer,
Calling home!

​My thanks to B. F. Washington
who wrote this poem for his daughter
Fanny Madison Washington

Published in the Daily Examiner,
San Francisco, California 
24 July 1868