 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
117
DAVID THE FATHER.
“Oh my son Absalom, my son, my son!Would I had died for thee!” Thus up the stair
Above the gate he groaned in his despair
At tidings of that fatal victory won;
All the dark deeds which Absalom had done
Merged in sweet memories of his countenance fair;
The father's heart entangled in that hair,
Whose golden sheen outvied the orient sun.
Rebel, undutiful, ingrate, unkind,
All was forgotten in that one word—Child;
The father's eyes with tears of love were blind.
So we, God's rebel children, sin-defiled,
Round our Great Father's pitiful heart entwined,
By yearning, dying Love are reconciled.
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