is low,
Less like the chiding than the chid:
"How couldst Thou leave us so?"

Ah, mother! will thy heart mistake,
Depressed by rising fear,
The answering words that gently break
The silence of thine ear?

"Why sought ye me? Did ye not know
My father's work I do?"
Mother, if He that work forego,
Not long He cares for you.

"Why sought ye me?" Ah, mother dear!
The gulf already opes,
That soon will keep thee to thy fear,
And part thee from thy hopes.

A greater work He hath to do,
Than they can understand;
And therefore mourn the loving few,
With tears throughout the land.

3.

The Lord of life beside them rests;
They quaff the merry wine;
They do not know, those wedding guests,
The present power divine.

Believe, on such a group He smiled,
Though He might sigh the while;
Believe not, sweet-souled Mary's child
Was born without a smile.

He saw the pitchers high upturned,
The last red drops to pour;
His mother's cheek with triumph burned,
And expectation wore.

He knew the prayer her bosom housed,
He read it in her eyes.
Her hopes in Him sad thoughts have roused,
Before her words arise.

"They have no wine," the mother said,
And ceased while scarce begun;
Her eyes went on, "Lift up thy head,
Show what Thou art, my Son!"

A vision rose before his eyes,
The cross, the early tomb,
The people's rage, the darkened skies,
His unavoided doom.

"Ah, woman-heart! what end is set
Common to thee and me?
My hour of honour is not yet,--
'Twill come too soon for thee."

And yet his eyes so sweetly shined,
His voice so gentle grew,
The mother knew the answer kind--
"Whate'er He sayeth, do."

The little feast more joyous grew,
Fast flowed the grapes divine;
Though then, as now, not many knew
Who made the water wine.

4.

"He is beside himself," they said;
His days, so lonely spent,
Him from the well-known path have led
In which our fathers went."

"Thy mother seeks thee." Cried aloud,
The message finds its way;
He stands within, amidst a crowd,
She in the open day.

A flush of light o'erspreads his face,
And pours from forth his eyes;
He lifts that head, the home of grace,
Looks round Him, and replies.

"My mother? brothers? who are they?"
Hearest thou, Mary mild?
This is a sword that well may slay--
Disowned by thy child!

Not so. But, brothers, sisters, hear!
What says our human Lord?
O mother, did it wound t