 | Poems |  |
74
BEHOLD MY MOTHER AND MY BRETHREN.
Who is my mother, or my brethren?—He spake, and looked on them who sat around,
With a meek smile, of pity blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleamed from human face,—
As when a sun-beam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;
And with that look of love, he said, Behold
My mother, and my brethren: for I say,
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,
He is my brother, sister, mother, all.
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