From my little world of dreams,
Live, thy wife, alone for thee!
Brand.
Steep the path is, high the goal.
Agnes.
Lead, nor sternly spur, my soul!
Brand.
In a greater name I call.
Agnes.
One of whom thou saidst that still
He accepts the steadfast will,
Though the flesh be weak withal! [Going.
Brand.
Whither, Agnes?
Agnes.
[Smiles.]
Ah, to-day
Home must have its feast array
Thou my lavishness didst chide,
Mindest thou, last Christmastide?
All the chamber flash'd with lights,
From the Christmas-tree there hung
Toys and wreaths and quaint delights;
There was laughter, there was song.
Brand, for us this year also
Shall the Christmas-candles glow,
Here shall all be deck'd and dight
For the great, still Feast to-night!
Here, if haply God should peep,
He of meek and lowly mind
