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Poems

By the author of "The Patience of Hope" [i.e. Dora Greenwell]
  

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THE SUMMONS.
  
  
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224

THE SUMMONS.

Methought from out the crowd a steadfast eye
Did single out mine own! a voice Divine
Was borne within my soul, in tones that made
Such depth of music there, the sense did fade
Through sweetness that it kindled; Lord, for thine
I knew the voice full well! and yet I heard
Of all Thou spakest then one only word;
My Name! Thou calledst me! I must prepare
For Thee this day! and wilt Thou come and share
My Mid-day meal, while I with heart elate
Shall wait on Thee, or wilt Thou rather wait
On me, Thy servant? through this noon-tide glare
Thy Banner drawing tenderly, to spread
An early dusk that I may lay my head
The sooner at Thy supper on Thy breast?
It matters little, Lord! or come or send—
Take Thou my spirit hence, or like a Friend
Make Thou thy home within it,—I am blest.