English Roses by F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] |
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THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN. |
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 | English Roses |  |
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THE SOULS OF THE CHILDREN.
In the place of the Utter Dearth
Where the souls of the children stay,
When they pass from the troubled earth
And do cry to the Lord alway;
In the darkness that aye is felt
With its weight of exceeding blight,
Lo, they kneel as the children knelt
Through the ages and ask for Light;
In the place with never a grace
Where the murmuring wheels go slow,
There they call till the dayshine fall
On their pitiful brows below.
Where the souls of the children stay,
When they pass from the troubled earth
And do cry to the Lord alway;
In the darkness that aye is felt
With its weight of exceeding blight,
Lo, they kneel as the children knelt
Through the ages and ask for Light;
In the place with never a grace
Where the murmuring wheels go slow,
There they call till the dayshine fall
On their pitiful brows below.
And they build up a ladder of Prayer
To the silent Heaven in love,
Not a doubting of one delayer
In their steps as they climb above;
But the haven is steep and high
Though they labour the night as well,
And with many a sob and sigh,
At a pathway ineffable.
And they build with the tear-drops spilled,
By the passion of pleading eyes,
Still a road with their suffering load
To their Father in Paradise.
To the silent Heaven in love,
Not a doubting of one delayer
In their steps as they climb above;
But the haven is steep and high
Though they labour the night as well,
And with many a sob and sigh,
At a pathway ineffable.
And they build with the tear-drops spilled,
By the passion of pleading eyes,
Still a road with their suffering load
To their Father in Paradise.
They are souls of the Children born
In the shadow of evil shame,
Who were plucked ere their time forlorn
Without honour of any name;
So they toil betwixt Day and Night
And betwixt heaven and earth they live,
In the blemish that must take flight
If the God who is good forgive;
And the sins of the father lie
On the head of each little one,
As they anguish and hourly die
In their dolorous fate foredone.
In the shadow of evil shame,
Who were plucked ere their time forlorn
Without honour of any name;
So they toil betwixt Day and Night
And betwixt heaven and earth they live,
In the blemish that must take flight
If the God who is good forgive;
And the sins of the father lie
On the head of each little one,
As they anguish and hourly die
In their dolorous fate foredone.
567
In the bourne of the Utter Dearth,
They do tremblingly watch and weep
For the lack of the honest hearth,
From their home of the Haunted Sleep;
And they beg for the kindly slayer
In the task that may never cease,
As they build up a Ladder of Prayer
And yet crave for desired release;
But the Father whose name is Love
Thus is purging them clean and white,
And will carry them then above
To the joy that is infinite.
They do tremblingly watch and weep
For the lack of the honest hearth,
From their home of the Haunted Sleep;
And they beg for the kindly slayer
In the task that may never cease,
As they build up a Ladder of Prayer
And yet crave for desired release;
But the Father whose name is Love
Thus is purging them clean and white,
And will carry them then above
To the joy that is infinite.
| English Roses | |