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

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<poem> 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!