THE LETTERS THAT COME NOT. 337
Ye seek the Lord ? Lo ! He is risen ! Ye seek the Lord ? He is not here."
But through cloud-encompassed glory Pierced hands, that once were laid
On childish heads, reached down to take him, Safely, softly, unafraid.
Wiser now than Eastern Magi
Neath the strange Judean star, Is the creature newly entered
In beyond the crystal bar
Safer than the nested robin
Hovered neath its mother s breast;
Nearer in its tender silence Than the folded darling blest.
Ah ! I hear an angel whisper, " Nay, not here for Baby seek ; He, like Jesu, vanished early In the dawning of the week."
��THE LETTERS THAT COME NOT
NAY, Flossie, my fair little maiden, Don t frown as the postman goes by, Nor twist up your bit of a kerchief To wipe a small tear from your eye. 29 W