HERBERT Like a mendicant, Whom no one comes to meet, I stood alone;-- I murmured--but, remembering Him who feeds The pelican and ostrich of the desert, From my own threshold I looked up to Heaven And did not want glimmerings of quiet hope. So, from the court I passed, and down the brook, Led by its murmur, to the ancient oak I came; and when I felt its cooling shade, I sate me down, and cannot but believe-- While in my lap I held my little Babe And clasped her to my heart, my heart that ached More with delight than grief--I heard a voice Such as by Cherith on Elijah called; It said, "I will be with thee." A little boy, A shepherd-lad, ere yet my trance was gone, Hailed us as if he had been sent from heaven, And said, with tears, that he would be our guide: I had a better guide--that innocent Babe-- Her, who hath saved me, to this hour, from harm, From cold, from hunger, penury, and death; To whom I owe the best of all the good I have, or wish for, upon earth--and more And higher far than lies within earth's bounds: Therefore I bless her: when I think of Man, I bless her with sad spirit,--when of God, I bless her in the fulness of my joy!