Poems (Eckley)/Rest upon thy heart

by Sophia May Eckley

REST UPON THY HEART.

HROUGH the ditch, and through the mire,
 Through the valley, o'er the plain,
Up the mountain, down the mountain—
 Rest upon thy heart again.

Deep the ditch, and black the mire,
 Sunless valley, dreary plain,
Up the mountain, down the mountain—
 Safe upon thy heart again.

In the desert long a pilgrim,
 Broken staff, and sandals worn,
Garments old, and patched and tattered—
 Shivering in the chilly morn.

Sunless mornings, nights so moonless,
 Starless, cloudy, wind and rain,
Tent in tatters,—parched and thirsty—
 Rest upon thy heart again.

Long and weary seems the journey,
 Bitter bread of muddy grain,
Wells so scarce, so low, and turbid—
 Rest upon thy heart again.

Beats the tempest in its fury
 On a weak defenceless head,
Rags to scarcely shield the bosom,
 Feet to bleed, too cold and dead.

Dead the flowers, spent their odours,
 Hush'd the voice of nature's love,
Lonely, lonely, on to wander—
 Is the "Father still above?"

Hush! the Saviour trode the wine-press,
 In the desert bore the heat,
Brought e'en fragrance from the nettles,
 Smoothed the sharp stones for my feet.

In the palm-tree's whispering shelter,
 Close beside the cooling stream,
Laid my head upon her bosom,
 Till the past seemed but a dream!