There in my grief she consoled me. She loved when I loved not. She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips. She told me all her pain and show’d me all her trouble. I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return’d her kiss. Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them. Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life. Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance; This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise. Weeping strangled my voice. I call’d out, but none answered; Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door; She whom I love, who loved me, look’d not on my yearning, Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show’d me no more her soul. Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness, Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day; Therefore I find my love in heaven, no light, no beauty, A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain! A CHRISTMAS SONG BY TERESA BRAYTON O Lord, as You lay so soft and white, A Babe in a manger stall, With the big star flashing across the night, Did you know and pity us all? Did the wee hands, close as a rosebud curled, With the call of their mission ache, To be out and saving a weary world For Your merciful Father’s sake? Did You hear the cries of the groping blind, The woe of the leper’s prayer, The surging sorrow of all mankind, As You lay by Your Mother there? Beyond the shepherds, low bending down, The long, long road did You see That led from peaceful Bethlehem town To the summit of Calvary? The world grown weary of wasting strife, Had called for the Christ to rise; For sin had poisoned the springs of life And only the dead were wise. But, wrapped in a dream of scornful pride, Too high were its eyes to see A Child, foredoomed to be crucified, On a peasant Mother’s knee. But, while the heavens with glad acclaim Sang out the tale of Your birth, A mystic echo of comfort came To the desolate souls of earth. For the thrill of a slowly turning tide Was felt in that grey daybreak, As if God, the Father, had sanctified All sorrow for One Man’s sake. O Child of the Promise! Lord of Love! O Master of all the earth! While the angels are singing their songs above, We bring our gifts to Your birth. Just the blind man’s cry, and the lame man’s pace, And the leper’s pitiful call; On these, over infinite fields of space, Look down, for You know them all. LIKE ONE I KNOW BY NANCY CAMPBELL