— Marie Conway Oemler, in the New York Independent
By Marie Conway Oemler
Some day — in future, fairer days to be —
I’ll do the kindly work my heart has planned;
Then every one that asks shall have from me
The quick, sure sympathy of heart and hand.
I shall obey the Father’s old command
To lift the fallen, comfort the opprest;
To pluck the thorns from out my brother’s breast;
To open wide my soul, and cast out sin,
And call good deeds, God’s tender angels, in. I have no time to-day; but sometime I
Shall follow where the Master’s feet have trod;
Shall face the frowning world with courage high;
Shall learn to kiss, with chastened lips, the rod,
And find in Sorrow’s face the eyes of God.
So shall I curb the quick, rebellious will,
Hear in my heart a low-voiced “Peace, be still!”
Through grief most nobly borne my soul shall win
A space to call the choiring angels in. But O, what if, on some fair eventide,
When I might watch, as Abram watched of old,
The long-closed tent doors of my heart flung wide
To welcome angel guests into my fold,
That they should find my dwelling-place too cold!
A moldered floor, unknown of wind and sun;
A lamp unlit of kindness never done;
A shrine dust-strewn with selfishness and sin,
And, all too late, I called the angels in! — Marie Conway Oemler, in the New York Independent