Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/238

Or Angel have I at thy voice inquired
 Since first my solemn quest for Thee began;
Thee, only Thee my spirit hath required
For Teacher and for Counsellor and Friend;
So now Thou needest me, Thou dost not send
By any other, but within the shade
 Thy awful Presence makes, ere yet the fall
 Of evening darkens, I can hear Thee call,
"Come home, my child!" and I am not afraid;
Though oft Thou showedst me a brow austere,
 And oft thy lessons hard to understand
Were grievous to me, now Thou drawest near
 I see Thy smile,^[1] I do not feel Thy hand.

        And He, our Brother kind,
Wounded and grieved by us, yet waiting where
He passed before our Mansions to prepare,
 Made himself strange at first; I did not find
An instant welcome; oft with speech severe
He questioned me, and oft methought his ear
Was turned away, but now I feel his tear
Upon my cheek, his kiss upon my soul;
He biddeth all withdraw, while with His Own
He talketh: "How is this. Thou hast not known
Thy Brother? I am Joseph,"—now no more
Doth Love refrain itself because its goal
Is well-nigh won, and all its trial sore
O'erpast, it leaveth with a brow serene
The secret Chamber where so oft unseen
It wept before;

1. Note F.