“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” “Lo! I am with you alway.”
“It came — the parting,
And our weary hearts
Fell torn and bleeding at the feet
Of One who knew each pang —
His name — “the Man of Sorrows.”
No stranger He to grief — for once
Alone, despised, forsaken e’en of God;
His heart, divine, yet human, bore the load
Of all creation’s misery!
Man’s hatred too — He bore it all —
And yet loved on!
And now we needed not to call — for He
Had watched each moment of our fleeting joy
With tenderest sympathy — His ear
Had caught the “farewell” which the lips
Refused to utter — and His heart
O’erflow’d with love — with yearning, pitying love.
His arms He clasp’d around us, and our heads
Cradled upon His breast; while to each weary child
Spake He of rest. And from those lips
Dropped on each wounded heart the fragrant myrrh,
Soothing — restoring
Sweet was that hour of peace!
Deep as the ocean calm, when the waves are still’d,
When the wild winds sink to rest
And the last thunder-roll dies murmuring away
And faint grows the note of the storm-bird’s cry
As she seeks her lonely nest.
But stealing — slowly stealing along the eastern sky
Are streaks of glory — harbingers of morn,
Telling of coming radiance — of a cloudless day.
So stealing — sweetly stealing upon the wondering soul
Came visions of His glory, of joys before unknown.
And on each list’ning ear fell there a sound
Of words most sweet. — speaking of love
Which could not change — of hope which fadeth not —
Of meetings in a land where partings come not
And only joy is known.
*******
So He spake peace! And from each heart
Burst forth a song of praise! We could not grieve,
Each aching void was fill’d — for He was ours
And was not He enough?”
E. C. L.