LIKE those pale stars of tempest-hours, whose gleam Waves calm and constant on the rocking mast, Such by the cross doth your bright lingering seem, Daughters of Zion! faithful to the last! Ye, through the darkness o'er the wide earth cast By the death-cloud within the Saviour's eye, E'en till away the heavenly spirit passed, Stood in the shadow of His agony. O blessed faith! a guiding lamp, that hour Was lit for woman's heart! To her, whose dower Is all of love and suffering from her birth, Still hath your act a voice -- through fear, through strife, Bidding her bind each tendril of her life To that which her deep soul hath proved of holiest worth. |