Song of the Day - 8th January

Today's Song of the Day is on the theme of Adoption.

I found it surprisingly challenging to discover a public domain poem focused on adoption, so I've chosen one that tells the the oldest adoption story of all, the timeless and poignant story of Moses.

Not only is this piece fitting for an adoption celebration, but it also resonates with any occasion where the inspiring tale of Moses can be shared, such as a Family Service.

"The Story of Moses" was written by H. P. Nichols (1816 - 1890), from Salem, Massachusetts. He was the visionary behind a thriving publishing company in Boston during the mid-1800s alongside his partner William Crosby. This venture eventually evolved into Nichols & Noyes.

This poem is from a volume printed in 1850 with the inscription:

"Most of the simple verses which compose this volume were written for a very dear child, with no thought beyond her gratification. They are published at the request of friends, with the hope that other children may derive the same pleasure from them as the little one for whom they were first intended."

Boston, Dec. 4, 1850

(Wm. Crosby and H.P. Nichols)

I have chosen to set this poem to a simple, gentle melody featuring baritone and soprano soli. On hearing it, it may sound vaguely familiar. It is a deliberate homage in rhythm and style to the well-loved song "Tell me the Stories of Jesus", but different enough as to not be accused of plagiarism, of course!

This song is being beta tested for Songs for all Seasons by the Heart of England Singers.

The Story Of Moses.

By H. P. Nichols

"Tell me a Sunday story,"

A dear child said to me;

And I bent down and kissed her

And placed her on my knee.

"Once, long ago, in countries

Far, very far away,

Where the cold snow-storm never comes,

And all is bright and gay,

"There lived a king, so cruel,

He gave this stern command,

That all the little children

Must die, throughout the land.

"But still there was one mother

Who kept her baby dear,

And quickly hushed its crying,

In silence and in fear;

"But when she could no longer

Her precious baby hide,

She did not like to throw him

Upon the rushing tide;

"And so a little basket

She made, of rushes stout,

And plastered it with clay and pitch

To keep the water out.

"Then in this basket-cradle

She put the little child;

And quietly he floated down

Among the rushes wild.

"Just then the king's own daughter

Came to the water's edge,

And saw the basket floating

Among the grass and sedge.

"She drew it from the water,

And called the babe her own,

And kept him till to be a man

That little boy had grown.

"And when you read the Bible,--

Which you will learn to do,--

You'll see how great and good he was,

And how God loved him, too."