Littell's Living Age/Volume 145/Issue 1876/Entering in

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The church was dim and silent
     With the hush before the prayer,
Only the solemn trembling
     Of the organ stirred the air;
Without, the sweet, still sunshine,
     Within, the holy calm,
Where priest and people waited
     For the swelling of the psalm.

Slowly the door swung open
     And a little baby girl,
Brown-eyed, with brown hair falling
     In many a wavy curl,
With soft cheeks flushing hotly,
     Shy glances downward thrown,
And small hands clasped before her,
     Stood in the aisle alone.

Stood half abashed, half frightened,
     Unknowing where to go,
While like a wind-rocked flower,
     The form swayed to and fro;
And the changing color fluttered
     In the little troubled face,
As from side to side she wavered
     With a mute, imploring grace.

It was but for a moment;
     What wonder that we smiled;
By such a strange, sweet picture
     From holy thoughts beguiled?
When up rose some one softly,
     And many an eye grew dim,
As through the tender silence
     He bore the child with him.

And I — I wondered (losing
     The sermon and the prayer)
If when sometime I enter
     The "many mansions" fair,
And stand abashed and drooping
     In the portals' golden glow,
Our God will send an angel
     To show me where to go!