Classic Poem

Before the everlasting Throne
The Angel of Jehovah's Presence stands;
With pierced feet and hands,
Our great High Priest, Supreme, Alone:
And mingling incense-clouds that rise
From off the golden altar day and night
And fill with fragrance all the heavenlies,
He offers up with calm delight
And love that never fails nor faints
The prayers and praises of His struggling saints.
But surely none are dearer in His sight,
Who deigns to dwell
Amid the eucharists of Israel,
Than when a mother, shielded by His love
Through her worst fears of peril and of pain,
Returns to prove
The quiet of her Father's house again;
And, her fond heart with gladness flowing o'er,
Presents the choicest she can bring
For freewill offering,
Herself a living sacrifice for evermore.

And not herself alone;
But that which Heaven has given her for her own,
A priceless dowry bought with Jesus' blood,
Her new-born treasure around whom
Hopes sweetest bloom,
The offspring of her vows and womb,
The pledge of human and of heavenly love
Seal'd here and ratified above,
She lays upon the altar of her God.
It is too precious and too frail a thing
Even for the shelter of a mother's wing:
God grant the fond petition she prefers
And be her darling rather His than hers:
His be the Hand that holds the brimming cup
In this uncertain world of storm and strife,
And His the Arm Omnipotent to shield
The fountain pure from sin He has unseal'd,
A well of water springing up
To everlasting life.

List, touch a tenderer string:
Another comes; but will she weep or sing?
Her folded blossom
Was taken, ere it well was given,
And carried by the angels into heaven,
And laid on Jesus' bosom.
But as she prays
And lifts her pale confiding gaze
To those clear crystal skies
Which hardly veil the nearer Paradise,
She smiles amid her tears,
For heaven's far music falls upon her ears: —
Whate'er betides her here below,
Her child shall never know
One touch of woe:
It has been hers to place another gem
In Jesus' many-jewell'd diadem,
And her dear Lord, her home, and she
Are richer for her babe to all eternity.

O Thou, who by Thy lowly birth
Hast knit for ever heaven and earth,
The Virgin's Saviour and the Virgin's Son,
Breathe in our every word and thought
The filial prayer Thyself hast taught,
And as in heaven on earth Thy will be done.