The Church was thronged—
Sunny-haired children, nestling 'neath
Mother's sheltering arm—ruddy youth—
Manhood in its pride—and heads
Silvered o'er with years, all gathered
At "call of chimes" to hear the "Word of God."
Stilled—was the
Organ's tone—the people humbly
Bowed the head in silent prayer.
Reverently the "readers" gave
The lesson of the day to listening ears—
Or, read unheeded by the careless ones
That "having ears—heard not."
Among the rest,
One sat with tear-dimmed eyes—
Patiently, she tried that sabbath morn
To "look unto the hills" and bid
Her heart "be still"; but all the long
Weeks of the past, she cried in anguish
For her child; reached out empty arms
To heaven— one low pleading cry— had
Sent the "Mother" for comfort in her
Loneliness, but not a sound came
Back into the midnight silence,
To tell her prayer was heard.
When lo! that sabbath morn— a
Soft sweet prelude from the organ
Stole upon her ear, the singer rose—
And through the hushed stillness,
Like "dewdrop in the lily's heart"
The message fell— "Love watches over all."
