RESIGNATION by Pauline Fife

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Oct 4, 1899

RESIGNATION.

By Pauline Fife

Across the years I see it still— The pale, sweet face, the mild Blue eyes which smiled at me through pain. She said, "Good-by, my child."

She knew her hand no more would clasp My own—knew that her eye Could follow me no more, and yet She smiled and said, "Good-by."

I know her eyes looked down the road My feet since then have pressed, And saw sin's yawning gulf, and felt The fear which fills my breast.

She knew that I should, trembling, face The powers of hell when throes Of sin's last hours would fill the earth With strange and mighty woes.

She must have longed to walk with me, And yet, with scarce a sigh, She placed my hand in God's, And, smiling, said, "Good-by."

Ah, surely in that bitter hour She saw the Master stand Beside her child, and she could smile, Because He held my hand!

Sometimes I long to flee from care, To shun some bitter task— To walk in broader ways—but then That hand takes tighter grasp.

Some day, erelong, dear heart, Upon the glassy sea, My hand shall clasp your own, for then He'll give you back to me.

O mothers, anxious-eyed, for fear That little feet should stray, Just pray, then smile, for God will walk Beside them all the way!

Oakland, Cal. PAULINE FIFE.