WATCHING, watching by the portal Of the city s golden street, Still a childish angel lingered, Maidenly and strangely sweet.
All the bright ones swiftly passing Blessed her on their outward way,
As she whispered, "Is my mother Coming, angel fair, to-day?"
When the hosts who do His bidding Sped, their waiting harps to tune,
Each one met the patient query, " Is my mother coming soon?
" I came on with Jesus early,
Clinging to His pierced hand ; Will she find me, coming later Up to Him and Glory-Land ?
"It seems ages since I left her
Ages since she kissed my hair; Can you tell me, kindly angels, Why .does mother tarry there?"
When a silver shadow brightened Up from earth to gate of pearl,
Lo ! a mother, angel-guided,
Sought and found her little girl ;