Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Entreat for me, for thou hast ever stayed
Within the Father's house; thine eyes serene
Have followed on Him there, while I have strayed,
And in far distant lands a wanderer been.

Thou needest not to seek Him, and arise
To go to Him, for on thy lip and brow
The shadow of a blest communing lies
That tells, dear friend, that thou art with Him now.

“Son, thou art ever with me,” robe and ring,
The greeting tear, the reconciling kiss,
Were for the Prodigal's return; “each thing
I have is thine,” oh, blest enough in this

Art thou, that freely from the Father's store
Mayst take at will of all His goods increase
For thy heart's solace; mine that hungered sore
Hath still to crave for pardon, still for peace.

I would not dare an earthly wish to speak;
Yet is there this one boon: I come to thee,

Because I am not bold enough,—I seek
A messenger approved,—entreat for me!

So wayward children, through a dearer child,
Would win some wished-for favour, pleading thus,
“Go to our Father, thou art good and mild,
Less often hast thou grieved him, ask for us!”