Ay , Lord! and I do thank Thee, — sure that she
Whom I do call " gude-wife, " was sent by Thee;
And I accept her humbly, and do make
This rude yet heartsome verse for her dear sake.

How fair she is, beseems not me to tell;
Yet sweet Rebekah by the ancient well
More sweet, more fair, more beauteous scarce could be,
Than is my love, my fair one, unto me.

She sits with Mary at the Master's feet;
With Martha rises to prepare Him meat;
With Dorcas plies her needle's shining steel
To assuage the woes she cannot wholly heal.

She maketh little coats with Hannah's care,
And Hannah's forethought, for the children's wear;
And if in Shiloh ever they appear
Be sure the mother-hand hath led them there.

She plies the distaff, and with equal skill
Discourseth music at her own sweet will;
While on her lips the law of kindness reigns,
And in her heart the rule of love obtains.

She riseth while 't is night, — and giveth each
Their portion; and with gentle look and speech,
She doth prevent the evening on the hill,
Since, where she smileth, it is daybreak still!

Sweet mother-wife! she careth for us all;
The little, lonely sparrow on the wall
Sees the white glancing of her hand, and straight
Flies for his portion at her bounteous gate.

So blest and blessing, she doth 'mongst us move,
A sweet embodiment of perfect love;
I see her white wings growing day by day,
I almost hear heaven calling, " Come away! "

Nay, nay; not yet, dear Lord! I need her still;
Thou hast Thine angels on Thy holy hill;
Leave, leave me mine, — for yet a little while
Lend me her hand, her voice, her gentle smile.

For she to me is Thine own angel given
To show my lagging feet the way to heaven;
She ministers to me in such sweet guise!
I read Thy gospel in her gracious eyes!

Bereft of her, I doubt this grief-dimmed eye
The heavenly heights henceforward could descry
For human tears! Then take her not, I pray,
Or take me with her up the shining way!