Waiting

GWENDOLEN EDWARDS

There sat alone at eventide,
Outside a great church door,
A ragged outcast of the street,
Sin-stained and sick and poor.
And as he bowed him low and wept,
Repentant of his wrong,
Across his word-dulled ear there crept
A melody of song.

"O'er waiting harp-strings of the mind"
Poems, by Mrs. Eddy, p. 12 . —
The healing words were sung—
"There sweeps a strain, . . . whose measures bind
The power of pain." Then rung
Within that sad, o'erburdened heart
A note of hope,—ah, more,—
A longing to be pure and whole!
He knelt without the door—

And healing came! Oh, hungry heart,
It was because those strings
Were waiting for the touch of Love,
And this the Christ, Truth, brings.
He put aside his sense of self,
He knelt beside the door;
He waited; and now Love divine
Is with him evermore.