Poems (Kimball)/"It is I"
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"IT IS I."
" IT is so hard!" I said,
And sat within and told my troubles o'er;
A hand fell softly on my bowèd head,
Yet no one passed my door.
And sat within and told my troubles o'er;
A hand fell softly on my bowèd head,
Yet no one passed my door.
"A fancy!" then I said;
"But oh! to feel that touch forevermore!
Methinks, indeed, I could be comforted!"
And sorrowed as before.
"But oh! to feel that touch forevermore!
Methinks, indeed, I could be comforted!"
And sorrowed as before.
"No other heart can know!"
Brake out my grief again with bitter cry;
"And God is far— so far my faith lets go
Her hold on Heaven to die!"
Brake out my grief again with bitter cry;
"And God is far— so far my faith lets go
Her hold on Heaven to die!"
Then someone stoopèd low,
His heart full-throbbing, as with tears, dose by:
"Lord! is it Thou so movèd by my woe?"
He answered, "It is I."
His heart full-throbbing, as with tears, dose by:
"Lord! is it Thou so movèd by my woe?"
He answered, "It is I."