“What ails thee, mother?” Marien said, In a gentle voice and sweet; “What aileth thee, my mother?” And knelt down at her feet. “What aileth thee, my mother?” Kind Marien still did say; And those two words, _my mother_, To the lone heart found their way. As one who wakeneth in amaze, She quickly raised her head;-- And “Who is’t calls me mother?” Said she, “my child is dead!” “He was the last of seven sons-- He is dead--I have none other;-- This is the day they bury him;-- Who is it calls me mother?” “’Tis I,” said gentle Marien, “Dear soul, be comforted!” But the woman only wrung her hands, And cried, “My son is dead!” “Be comforted,” said Marien, And then she sweetly spake Of Jesus Christ, and how he came The sting from death to take. She told of all his life-long love, His soul by suffering tried: And how at last his mother stood To see him crucified. Of the disciples’ broken hearts She told, of pangs and pain; Of Mary at the sepulchre, And Christ arisen again. “Then sorrow not,” she said, “as though Thou wert of all bereft; For still, though they beloved are not, This blessed faith is left. “That when thy dream of life is o’er Thou shalt embrace thy seven, More beautiful than earthly sons, With our dear Lord in heaven!” Down on her knees the woman fell, And “blessed be God,” said she, “Who in my sorest need hath sent This comforter to me!” PART II. Now Marien in the woman’s house Abode a little space, And comfort to the mother came; And a dear daughter’s place Had Marien in the woman’s heart, Doing the while a daughter’s part. But now ’twas time that she must go; For Marien’s duty was not there, Now grief was past and woe was done; So, with the rising of the sun, She rose up forth to fare. “Nay, bide with me,” the woman said, “Or, if as thou dost say, Duty forbids that this may be, I a day’s journey go with thee, To speed thee on the way.” So forth the loving pair set out, The woman and the child; And first they crossed the desert heath, And then the mountains wild. And in the woman’s arms she lay, That night within the forest hoar, And the next morn, with loving heart, They said farewell, as those who part To meet on earth no more. Upon her way went Marien, From morn till set of day, And the peace of God that passeth word, Upon her spirit lay, And oftimes she sang aloud As she went on her way. The joyfulest song sang Marien That e’er left human tongue; The very birds were mute to hear The holy words she sung.