That blessed faith of thine,
They mothering thee have sold.
But she, thy daughter dutiful,
Has kept thy treasure beautiful
Through many sorrows in her heart of gold.
THE SPOUSE OF CHRIST
By D. A. Casey
He came to her from out eternal years,
A smile upon His lips, a tender smile
That, somehow, spoke of partings and of tears.
'Twas eventide, and silence brooded low
On earth and sky—the hour when haunting fears
Of mystery pursue us as we go.
Strange, mystic shadows filled the temple dim,
But on the Golden Door the ruby glow
Spoke orisons more sweet than vesper hymn.
No human accents voiced His gentle call,
No crashing thunderbolts did wait on Him,
As when of old He deigned to summon Saul.
But heart did speak to heart, an unseen chord
In Love's own scale did sweetly rise and fall;
Nor questioned she, but meekly answered "Lord!"
To-night some household counts a vacant chair,
But far on high Christ portions the reward,
A hundred-fold for each poor human care.
