Poem March 26, 1932 Issue

The Way to Galilee

MAUD E. FERRIS

It was the dawn, silent, and cold, and still,
Its stillness broken only by the sound
Of little rustling movements in the trees,
Where tiny birds awakening, stirred, and called
Their sleepy mates, with softest twitterings.

The earth, in the dim morning light, lay wrapped
In slumber deep. From human eye was hid
The growing radiance of that Easter morn.
In all the land, none waked to see the clouds
Above the distant hills turn faintly pink,
To note the ever widening rays of light
Sweeping across the opal-tinted sky;
Or watch the sun, above the drifting clouds
In the far east, send forth its first bright beam,
Bright promise of a world's awakening.

The rising sun turned night to day, and touched
The place where Mary stood. Her head was bowed
In sorrow to the ground. Her eyes were dim—
Half blinded with her tears. She did not see
The radiant light, the glory all around,
Until he spoke, and called her by her name—
So tenderly. Startled, she ceased to weep;
Slowly her tear-wet eyes to his she raised
In speechless wonder, knowing that once more
She heard his gentle voice. She turned herself,
And at his feet, in faith unquestioning,
She came and knelt, content. At Love's swift touch
Her grief was healed. Her risen Lord she saw.