 | English Roses |  |
EMMELINE.
At times the look of other landsShone in her eyes so far away,
For she had heard her Lord's commands
And would not if she could delay.
How might she linger or be glad
With yellow gold or earthly yields,
When but a stranger here who had
A life laid out in broader fields?
She found a daily task to do,
Though every hope and thought was there,
And felt a pilgrim passing through—
For her whole heart dwelt otherwhere.
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Walked with the bowed and burdened throng,
And bare her own and alien loads,
She heard on high a sweeter song.
No work of kindness that she did
Was mingled with a petty shame,
But only in God's keeping hid
And never blotted with a name.
The words of comfort that she spake
Seemed of her fulness said and sown,
But bade some sleeping soul awake,
Yet to herself were all unknown.
Confronting death she knew no doubt,
Like some white angel flitting by,
And earth enriched by her gave out
The perfume of that piety.
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