 | Women must weep |  |
FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.
Why do they bear the burden sore,
On the rugged pathway strait and steep,
While, as waves that beat on a winter shore,
The midnight comes down cold and deep—
And the mists rise up from the shadowy lands,
Where the ghosts of sins departed bide,
And point with their dim accusing hands
At the guilty blots we fain would hide—
As they creep and crawl,
Till they leave their mark,
Like a dying scrawl
In the dungeon dark?
Why do they face the threatening cloud,
Though the gathering thunders close and shake,
And the stormwind blows its trump aloud?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
On the rugged pathway strait and steep,
While, as waves that beat on a winter shore,
The midnight comes down cold and deep—
And the mists rise up from the shadowy lands,
Where the ghosts of sins departed bide,
And point with their dim accusing hands
At the guilty blots we fain would hide—
As they creep and crawl,
Till they leave their mark,
Like a dying scrawl
In the dungeon dark?
Why do they face the threatening cloud,
Though the gathering thunders close and shake,
And the stormwind blows its trump aloud?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
Why do they welcome for each day,
Woes that the bravest soul might dread—
Fear, like an arm upraised to slay—
Want, like the chill upon the dead—
Pangs, that are sudden as a thief,
Startling and treacherous with their stroke—
Sorrow, that falls without relief,
Bitter and blasting in its yoke—
And the cares that grind,
As with captive chains,
The unequal mind,
In their poisoned pains?
Why do they suffer scorn and loss,
And burn at the martyr's blessed stake,
And anguish upon the hourly cross?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
Woes that the bravest soul might dread—
Fear, like an arm upraised to slay—
Want, like the chill upon the dead—
Pangs, that are sudden as a thief,
Startling and treacherous with their stroke—
Sorrow, that falls without relief,
Bitter and blasting in its yoke—
And the cares that grind,
As with captive chains,
117
In their poisoned pains?
Why do they suffer scorn and loss,
And burn at the martyr's blessed stake,
And anguish upon the hourly cross?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
Why do they pay that costly price,
In the service which they freely give,
When they yield themselves a sacrifice,
And in constant dying learn to live—
When they go through the hate and cruel shame,
And the stern baptizing into blood,
Or endure the scorching furnace-flame,
With the tempest-tossings of the flood—
As they upward speed,
And they onward push,
And in every weed
See a burning bush?
Why do they slave for others yet,
And from shattered hopes new conquests make,
And the love of their darling ones forget?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
In the service which they freely give,
When they yield themselves a sacrifice,
And in constant dying learn to live—
When they go through the hate and cruel shame,
And the stern baptizing into blood,
Or endure the scorching furnace-flame,
With the tempest-tossings of the flood—
As they upward speed,
And they onward push,
And in every weed
See a burning bush?
Why do they slave for others yet,
And from shattered hopes new conquests make,
And the love of their darling ones forget?
—It is all for Christ's sake.
| Women must weep | |