Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1868-06-19
The Mothers Vision.

Blessed are they 'oho haze not seen, and get har
6eEeUed"
"Give me, give me back my child"
So prayed in anguish fierce and wild
A mother, when before her lay
The idol she had formed of clay,
Shiver'd and broke; (for fierce the strife
Ere death had triumphed over life)
"Give me, give me back my child"
Still rose that cry of anguish wild;
In vain, by her unrecked, unheard,
Affection pour'd its tenderest word.
Deafend by griet, she heard no tone,
Save that sad utterance OF her own;
Still sweled to heaven that frantic cry
Delirious il its agony
Imploring still, in accents wild,
"Give me, give me back myIchild"
Worn out at last by misery,
Sank to a sob that wailing cry;
On the cold bosom of her dead,
Lower and lower droop'd her head,
Exhausted nature sunk and slept;
Aye! slept-such torpid, leaden sleep
AS pulses racked by pain may sleep!
But while entranced her senses lay,
The unfettered spirit scared away,
On unseen pinions waited through
The yielding depths of purest blue.
As waves on waves successive roll,
Visions of splendor bathed her soul;
She saw Heavens crystal gates unfold;
She walked the streets of shining gold;
She saw the Saints with crowns of palm;
She heard the Martyrs glorious psalm,
Before her cleaned the wond'rous river
Whose living waves flash joy forever.
And over all, around, above,
The all-pervading Eye of Love
Till sight, and sound, and sense were blent
In perfect fullness of content
Then robed in white, before the Throne,
She saw a little, radiant one,
Who, to the golden harp he bore,
Sang the sweet "Holy Evermore %
No trace of suffering dims that brow,
Refulgent in its brightness now;
No shade of earth. no sadness lies
In the sweet splendor of those eyes;
But by the sudden rush of Joy
Flooding her heart, she knew her boy
One moment to her rest was given
That foretaste of the bliss of Heaven;
Then while the harp's ecstatic thrill
Trembled to silence, and was still
While that sweet hush, like heavenly balm
Bdthed all in its delicious calm,
Then rose from earth a wild, sharp cry,
A jarring peal Of agony,
A fierce, shrill cry-she knew the tone,
That sharp, harsh discord was her own
ImperiOus, passionate and wild,-
"Give me, give me back my child"
As Qike some noxious cIoud,) that cry
Rose through the pure blue depths of sky,
The boy-the beautiful, her own
Turned his rapt glanceS from the Throne;
Bent earthward with sad surprise,
The sweet light faded from his eyes,
Ger his pure brow a dimness crept,
He veiled his radiant face and Wept.
She fled. From her sad resting place,
The mCurner raised her fearful face.
fearful and pale, but on her brow
There sat holy calmness now;
Sornerh1ro of tho r7,,-a y,aaca Of Heaven
Seemed to her heart an aspect given,
As, kneeling where her dead was laid,
She meekly bowed her head and prayed
keep, Heavenly Father, keep my child;
My lamb, my dove, my undetied
Resigned, Iyield him up to Thee,
Blest in Thy presence must he be!
And the while, at Heavens gate,
VIII humbly strive to watch and wait,
Till in the furnace purified,
Ind by my sorrow sanctifed,
1, in Thine own good time, may be
Led by my angel child to Thee :"