John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.
Religious PoemsThe Minister’s Daughter
I
He had told of the primal fall,
And how thenceforth the wrath of God
Rested on each and all.
All souls, save a chosen few,
Were doomed to the quenchless burning,
And held in the way thereto.
A saintlier soul was tried,
And never the harsh old lesson
A tenderer heart belied.
On that pleasant Sabbath day,
He walked with his little daughter
Through the apple-bloom of May.
Sparrow and blackbird sung;
Above him their tinted petals
The blossoming orchards hung.
The minister looked and smiled;
“How good is the Lord who gives us
These gifts from His hand, my child!
And the violets in the sward
A hint of the old, lost beauty
Of the Garden of the Lord!”
Treading on snow and pink:
“O father! these pretty blossoms
Are very wicked, I think.
There never had been a fall;
And if never a tree had blossomed
God would have loved us all.”
“By His decree man fell;
His ways are in clouds and darkness,
But He doeth all things well.
To us cometh good or ill,
Joy or pain, or light or shadow,
We must fear and love Him still.”
“And I try to love Him, too;
But I wish He was good and gentle,
Kind and loving as you.”
As the tremulous lips of pain
And wide, wet eyes uplifted
Questioned his own in vain.
The words of the little one;
Had he erred in his life-long teaching?
Had he wrong to his Master done?
Had he lent the holiest name?
Did his own heart, loving and human,
The God of his worship shame?
From the tender skies above,
And the face of his little daughter,
He read a lesson of love.
Of Sinai’s mount of law,
But as Christ in the Syrian lilies
The vision of God he saw.
Of old was His presence known,
The dread Ineffable Glory
Was Infinite Goodness alone.
In his prayers a tenderer strain,
And never the gospel of hatred
Burned on his lips again.
And the blinded eyes found sight,
And hearts, as flint aforetime,
Grew soft in his warmth and light.