| | I fainted away abandoned; |
| And amid the lilies forgottenThrew all my cares away. |
| (St. John of the Cross. The Obscure Night, Stanza viii) |
THROUGH the dark night I wander on alone, | |
| AND, as one blinded, grope my weary way, | |
| Without a lamp to shed its guiding ray; | |
| I wander on unseen, and seeing none, | |
| And caring to behold but only One. | 5 |
| |
| I see not, yet my heart will give me light, | |
| And safer than the noonday sun will guide | |
| To where the Bridegroom waiteth for the Bride; | |
| So walking on in faith and not by sight, | |
| I cannot fear but He will guide me right.… | 10 |
| |
| Forgotten ’mid the lilies; for I feel | |
| Their gentle blossoms wave above my head; | |
| I breathe the magic perfume which they shed, | |
| As though my bleeding wounds they fain would heal, | |
| And from my heart its aching sorrow steal. | 15 |
| |
| A sad, sweet lot—I needs must call it sweet; | |
| My cares, like withered buds, I cast aside, | |
| And reck but little what may next betide; | |
| The days and years fly past on pinions fleet, | |
| Amid these lilies crushed beneath His feet. | 20 |
| |
| Forgotten and abandoned;—yet withal | |
| Leaning my heart upon my only Love: | |
| Nay, raise me not, I do not care to move; | |
| Soon I shall hear His gentle footstep fall, | |
| And lift my eyes, and answer to His call. | 25 |
| |
| Till then among the lilies let me lie; | |
| See, I have cast my idle cares away: | |
| Howe’er it be, I am content to stay | |
| Until once more the Bridegroom passes by, | |
| And hither turns His gracious, pitying eye. | 30 |
| |
| Blame not my folly, for I know full well | |
| My words can nought but idle babbling seem, | |
| The madness of a fond and foolish dream: | |
| Bear with my folly, for the thoughts that swell | |
| This burning heart, I cannot, dare not tell. | 35 |
| |
| Know only this—I suffer, yet I rest; | |
| For all my cares and fears are cast away, | |
| And more than this I know not how to say; | |
| Forgotten though I be, I own it best | |
| And ’mid the lilies lie in perfect rest. | 40 |
