CHILDREN indeed are we -- children that wait Within a wondrous dwelling, while on high Stretch the sad vapors and the voiceless sky; The house is fair, yet all is desolate Because our Father comes not; clouds of fate Sadden above us -- shivering we espy The passing rain, the cloud before the gate, And cry to one another, "He is nigh!" At early morning, with a shining Face, He left us innocent and lily-crown'd; And now this late -- night cometh on apace -- We hold each other's hands and look around, Frighted at our own shades! Heaven send us grace! When He returns, all will be sleeping sound. |