"Lift up the lad"

LUCIE HASKELL HILL

A mother sat and watched beside her babe.
She was alone, for she had shut the door
On those who felt her trust was wrongly placed;
And now she strove to silence the false claim
That Life could be within a matter form.
Beyond the door there ever seemed to stand
A grim, dark figure that would terrify
The fearful, suffering, human mother-love.

It seemed indeed a wilderness of thought.
There was no one in all the house who knew
The precious password to the place she sought—
That sweet and sacred place of the Most High,
That inner shrine where she could lay her child
And know him safe from every gloomy fear;
By her that word of Truth seemed now forgot—
The potent word that was the healing balm.

She thought of all the mothers in the world;
But thought as mothers have been prone to think,
And not as knows the Father-Mother God,
Who sends but good to every little child.
Then suddenly, just as the closed door
Seemed stealthily to open on the foe,
Her trembling hand reached out and found a book—
An angel unawares within her reach.