A Woman in Hospital

I know it all... I know.

For I am God. I am Jehovah, He

Who made you what you are; and I can see

The tears that wet your pillow night by night,

When nurse has lowered that too-brilliant light;

When the talk ceases, and the ward grows still,

And you have doffed your will:

I know the anguish and the helplessness.

I know the fears that toss you to and fro.

And how you wrestle, weariful,

With hosts of little strings that pull

About your heart, and tear it so.

I know.

Lord, do You know

I had no time to put clean curtains up;

No time to finish darning all the socks;

Nor sew clean frilling in the children's frocks?

And do You know about my Baby's cold?

And how things are with my sweet three- year-old?

Will Jane remember right

Their cough mixture at night?

And will she ever think

To brush the kitchen flues, or scrub the sink?

And then, there's John! Poor tired lonely John!

No one will run to put his slippers on.

And not a soul but me

Knows just exactly how he likes his tea.

It rends my heart to think I cannot go

And minister to him....