Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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[Hers was a mother's heart] |
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218
[Hers was a mother's heart]
Hers was a mother's heart,
That poor Egyptian's, when she drew apart,
Because she would not see
Her child beloved in his last agony:
That poor Egyptian's, when she drew apart,
Because she would not see
Her child beloved in his last agony:
When her sad load she laid
In her despair beneath the scanty shade
In the wild waste, and stept
Aside, and long and passionately wept.
In her despair beneath the scanty shade
In the wild waste, and stept
Aside, and long and passionately wept.
Yet higher, more sublime,
How many a mother, since that ancient time,
Has shown the mighty power
Of love divine in such another hour!
How many a mother, since that ancient time,
Has shown the mighty power
Of love divine in such another hour!
Oh! higher love to wait
Fast by the sufferer in his worst estate,
Nor from the eyes to hide
One pang, but aye in courage to abide.
Fast by the sufferer in his worst estate,
Nor from the eyes to hide
One pang, but aye in courage to abide.
And though no Angel bring
In that dark hour unto a living spring
Of gladness,—as was sent,
Stilling her voice of turbulent lament,—
In that dark hour unto a living spring
Of gladness,—as was sent,
Stilling her voice of turbulent lament,—
Oh! higher faith to show,
Out of what depths of anguish and of woe
The heart is strong to raise
To an all-loving Father hymns of praise.
Out of what depths of anguish and of woe
The heart is strong to raise
To an all-loving Father hymns of praise.
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