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the midnight vigil.
The deep convulsion of my inmost life;
Save when a prayer of sternest agony,
Like some strong bird, goes forth amid the strife,
Through storm, and darkness, and cold, heavy clouds,
Battling its way toward heaven,—its weary way,
Where, 'mid the conflict soon o'ercome, it falls,
Dashed toward the earth by some relentless power.
But peace, my soul!—He liveth yet, who looked
On woman's grief and "wept,"—e'en while his voice
Rebuked the worm, and called the wasting dead
In life and freshness forth into the day;
Who took the Jewish maiden by the hand,
And, with one word, gave back to mortal life
A spirit wandering in the deathless clime,
To lose the memory of her hour of heaven
In the sweet sadness of an earthly lot.
Save when a prayer of sternest agony,
Like some strong bird, goes forth amid the strife,
Through storm, and darkness, and cold, heavy clouds,
Battling its way toward heaven,—its weary way,
Where, 'mid the conflict soon o'ercome, it falls,
Dashed toward the earth by some relentless power.
But peace, my soul!—He liveth yet, who looked
On woman's grief and "wept,"—e'en while his voice
Rebuked the worm, and called the wasting dead
In life and freshness forth into the day;
Who took the Jewish maiden by the hand,
And, with one word, gave back to mortal life
A spirit wandering in the deathless clime,
To lose the memory of her hour of heaven
In the sweet sadness of an earthly lot.
Once more my soul lifts up her bitter cry,
The fast outpouring of her grief and fear!
Once more falls at thy feet, and grasps thy robe,
And will not let thee go, Master of Life!
The fast outpouring of her grief and fear!
Once more falls at thy feet, and grasps thy robe,
And will not let thee go, Master of Life!
O, by the memory of her love, whose eyes
Looked tender adoration on Thee first,
Who warmed Thee at her bosom when the airs
Of the first morning breathed upon thy form,
Looked tender adoration on Thee first,
Who warmed Thee at her bosom when the airs
Of the first morning breathed upon thy form,
