"In my Father's house are many mansions."—John 14:2.
In solitary gloom she sat and read,
And bitter tears of pity dimmed the line:
With all those mansions in the realm of Love
Is no place mine?
No shelter, and no pillowed ease to lend
Repose to my tired head at eventide,
No table spread, no kindly hand to serve,
Or guard or guide?
