O God! to-morrow—
Surely You know—
I am to go
Through the great sorrow.

I, a weak woman,—
Soon to give birth
To a child of earth,—
Humble, yet human.

Christ of the ages
By no sin defiled,
Pity my child.
Is he sin's wages?

What are his chances
In a world like this?
Answer—a hiss!
A forked tongue glances!

Out of love fashioned,
Flung like a churl
Into the swirl
Of life impassioned;

It may be—yes, maybe
You have forgot.
I will not complain;
I'll suffer the pain.
But God! will you not