Thus, in Sorrow’s fiery furnace Was a faithful mother tried, Till, through Love’s divinest uses, All her soul was purified. O ye sorrow-stricken mothers! Ye whose weakness feeds your pain! Listen to her simple story-- Listen! and be strong again. “It was sunset--and the day-dream Of my life was almost o’er; For my spirit-bark was drifting Slowly, slowly from the shore. Dimly could I see the sunlight Through my vine-wreathed window shine, Faintly could I feel the pressure Of a strong hand clasping mine. “But anew the life-tide started, At my infant’s feeble cry; Back my spirit turned in anguish, And I felt I could not die. Deeper, darker fell the shadows, Like the midnight’s sable pall, And that infant cry grew fainter-- Fainter--fainter--that was all! “Suddenly I heard sweet voices Mingling in a tender strain-- All my mortal weakness left me, All my anguish and my pain. On my forehead fell the glory Of the bright, celestial morn, I was of the earth no longer, For my spirit was re-born. “Pure, sweet faces bent above me, Tenderly they gazed and smiled, And my Angel-Mother whispered, ‘Welcome, welcome home, my child!’ Then, in one melodious chorus, Sang the radiant angel band, ‘Welcome! O thou weary pilgrim! Welcome to the Spirit Land!’ “But, o’er all those glad rejoicings, Rose again my infant’s cry, For my heart had borne the echo Through the portals of the sky. And I murmured, O ye bright ones! Still my earthly home is dear; Vain are all your songs of welcome, For I am not happy here. “Strike your harps, ye white-robed Angels! But your music makes me wild, For my heart is with my treasure, Heaven is only with my child! Let me go, and whisper comfort To my little mourning dove-- Life is cold; O, let me shield him With a mother’s tenderest love! “Swift there came a pure, white angel, Through the glory, shining far, In her hand she bore a lily, On her forehead beamed a star. Very beautiful and tender Was the love-light in her eyes, Like the sunny smile of Summer, Beaming in the azure skies. “And she said, ‘O, mourning sister! Lo! thy prayer of love is heard, For the boundless Heart of Being By thine earnest cry is stirred. Heaven is life’s divinest freedom, And no mandate bids thee stay; Go, and as a star of duty, Guide thy loved one on his way. “‘Life is full of holy uses, If but rightly understood, And its evils and abuses May be stepping-stones to good. Never seek to weakly shield him, Or his destiny control, For the wealth that grief shall yield him, Is the birthright of his soul.’