Art and Fashion With other sketches, songs and poems. By Charles Swain |
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THE VICAR'S BLIND DAUGHTER. |
 | Art and Fashion |  |
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THE VICAR'S BLIND DAUGHTER.
Lone, yet never feeling lonely,
For her spirit peace can win;
Blind she is, but darkness only
Dwells without, and not within.
Face of friend or brother never
Lent their image to her eyes;
Yet the world seems kindly ever,
And its love wears no disguise!
For her spirit peace can win;
Blind she is, but darkness only
Dwells without, and not within.
Face of friend or brother never
Lent their image to her eyes;
Yet the world seems kindly ever,
And its love wears no disguise!
Let us sit awhile beside her—
Watch her life a single day;
See the angel that doth guide her
Gently through her darken'd way:
Nature hath but one concealment—
All that eloquence can yield
Meets her soul in rich revealment;
Voice of stream, and wood, and field!
Watch her life a single day;
See the angel that doth guide her
Gently through her darken'd way:
Nature hath but one concealment—
All that eloquence can yield
Meets her soul in rich revealment;
Voice of stream, and wood, and field!
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E'en the Summer flowers, though lowly,
Gather their whole heart's perfume
With a sweetness still more holy,
As to sanctify her gloom.
Charm of hue they cannot send her;
Yet her gentle touch they meet
With a softness far more tender,
And a sweetness still more sweet.
Gather their whole heart's perfume
With a sweetness still more holy,
As to sanctify her gloom.
Charm of hue they cannot send her;
Yet her gentle touch they meet
With a softness far more tender,
And a sweetness still more sweet.
Not a rustic in the village,
Not a ploughman labouring nigh,
But, forgetting toil and tillage,
Blesses her as she goes by:
She knows all the children's voices,
Calls their young names o'er and o'er;
Every mother's heart rejoices
As she standeth by the door.
Not a ploughman labouring nigh,
But, forgetting toil and tillage,
Blesses her as she goes by:
She knows all the children's voices,
Calls their young names o'er and o'er;
Every mother's heart rejoices
As she standeth by the door.
For she feeleth for their sorrow,
Careth for them in their care;
Helpeth them to meet the morrow
With the little she's to spare.
In their sickness she is near them,
In each trial of their lot
She is first to aid and cheer them;
None in sorrow are forgot!
Careth for them in their care;
Helpeth them to meet the morrow
With the little she's to spare.
In their sickness she is near them,
In each trial of their lot
She is first to aid and cheer them;
None in sorrow are forgot!
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So she fills her daily mission
With unwearied heart and mind,
Helping all in hard condition,
Leaving sorrow more resign'd!
So each night, by angels tended,
Finds she Nature's rest increase;
And that days in duty ended
Bring the spirit perfect peace.
With unwearied heart and mind,
Helping all in hard condition,
Leaving sorrow more resign'd!
So each night, by angels tended,
Finds she Nature's rest increase;
And that days in duty ended
Bring the spirit perfect peace.
Call you life like this privation?
Hath not God's own word supplied,
Ev'n in darkness, consolation—
Joys, through Jesus, multiplied?
Light, which earthly vision never
Yet beheld on sea or shore,
Hopes, no darkness can dissever,
Lift her soul for evermore!
Hath not God's own word supplied,
Ev'n in darkness, consolation—
Joys, through Jesus, multiplied?
Light, which earthly vision never
Yet beheld on sea or shore,
Hopes, no darkness can dissever,
Lift her soul for evermore!
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