TO MOTHER

O mother, from thy home beyond the stars

Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child

For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild

And piteous moaning for thy soft caress?

Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness

And the low patience of thy loving voice?

Hast thou not seen her‘ mid life's toils and jars,

Pant as a bird behind its prison bars,

For freedom to fly forth and be with thee?

And canst thou not, sweet mother, send reply?

Oh, thro’ the depths of glory, thro’ the sky,

Look for one moment down and say to me

That all of loss on earth thou findest to be

Great gain in heaven; that thou dost rejoice

In all that was, and is, and shall betide

At last to all; and that, in Him who died,

Yet liveth evermore, I, too, shall see

All discord blended into harmony;

And that I, too, shall be, as thou art, satisfied.