And then returns one voice, one face, A presence henceforth sure; The living glory of the place, To keep that chamber pure. Ah, Lord! with all our faults we come,-- With love that fails to ill; With Thee are our accusers dumb, With Thee our passions still. Ah! more than father's holy grace Thy lips and brow afford; For more than mother's tender face We come to Thee, O Lord! XIV. MARTHA. With joyful pride her heart is great: Her house, in all the land, Holds Him who conies, foretold by fate, With prophet-voice and hand. True, he is poor and lowly born: Her woman-soul is proud To know and hail the coming morn Before the eyeless crowd. At her poor table will He eat? He shall be served there With honour and devotion meet For any king that were. 'T is all she can; she does not fail; Her holy place is his: The place within the purple veil In the great temple is. But many crosses she must bear, Straight plans are sideways bent; Do all she can, things will not wear The form of her intent. With idle hands, by Him unsought, Her sister sits at rest; 'Twere better sure she rose, and wrought Some service for their guest. She feels a wrong. The feeling grows, As other cares invade: Strong in her right, at last she goes To claim her sister's aid. Ah, Martha! one day thou like her, Or here, or far beyond, Will sit as still, lest, but to stir, Should break the charmed bond. XV. MARY. 1. She sitteth at the Master's feet In motionless employ; Her ears, her heart, her soul complete Drinks in the tide of joy. She is the Earth, and He the Sun; He shineth forth her leaves; She, in new life from darkness won, Gives back what she receives. Ah! who but she the glory knows Of life, pure, high, intense; Whose holy calm breeds awful shows, Transfiguring the sense! The life in voice she drinks like wine; The Word an echo found; Her ear the world, where Thought divine Incarnate was in sound. Her holy eyes, brimful of light, Shine all unseen and low; As if the radiant words all night Forth at those orbs would go. The opening door reveals a face Of anxious household state: "Car'st thou not, Master, for my case, That I alone should wait?" Heavy with light, she lifts those eyes To Him who calmly heard; Ready that moment to arise, And go, before the word. Her fear is banished by his voice, Her fluttering hope set free: "The needful thing is Mary's choice, She shall remain with me." Oh, joy to every doubting heart, Doing the thing it would, If He, the Holy, take its part, And call its choice the good! 2. Not now as then his words are poured Into her lonely ears; But many guests are at the board, And many tongues she hears. With sacred foot she cometh slow, With daring, trembling tread; With shadowing worship bendeth low Above the godlike head.