III.
“Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, but one
thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not
be taken away from her.”
What joy to live beneath the eyes
Which looked the spirit “through and through,”
Which penetrated each disguise,
And would not let us be untrue;
Yet through the thickest veil descried
The little spring of good below,
And pierced the icy crust of pride,
That happy, humble tears might flow;
Rending each soft disguise, which spares
The evil thing by gentle name,—
For sinners founts of pitying tears,
But for the sin unquenchëd flame;
That saw the very spot within
On which to lay the healing touch;
That had no pity for the sin,
Because for those who sinned so much;
That marked through Peter's boast his dread,
Yet, by his curses unperplexed,
Looked through them to the light, and read
The traces of the earlier text;
Beneath the black, “I know Him not,”
“Thou know'st I love Thee” still could trace,
In graven characters inwrought,
No darkest stains could quite efface;
That knew, through all vibrations fixed,
The true direction of the will,—
Saw self with Martha's service mixed,
And love in Mary's sitting still.
Those eyes still watch us, not from far,
Still pitying “look us through and through,”
And through the broken sketch we are,
Foresee the heavenly likeness true;
Through all its soft and silken dress
The creature of the dust descry,
Yet 'neath the shapeless chrysalis
The Psyche moulding for the sky.
