University of Virginia Library

IN HIS ARMS.

Low in the dust I lay, and dared not cast
One upward glance to meet an injured look;
While all my being with a tempest shook,
And endless ages seemed in penance past.
But as hope rallied in my heart, at last
I lifted eyes that justice could not brook,
And saw instead a mercy strange and vast,
Writ on His Face as in His Gospel book.
But then He raised me, as a mother takes
Her tender infant when in fear it wakes,
And gives it of the treasures it loves best;
He took me in His Arms, and bade me rest
From all my weary wanderings and their aches,
And make a home for ever on His Breast.