Lost in the Flood

When God drave the ruthless waters     From our cornfields to the sea,     Came she where our wives and daughters     Sobbed their thanks on bended knee.     Hidden faces! there ye found her     Mute as death, and staring wild     At the shadow waxing round her     Like the presence of her child      Of her drenched and drowning child!     Dark thoughts live when tears wont gather;     Who can tell us what she felt?     It was human, O my Father,     If she blamed Thee while she knelt!     Ever, as a benediction     Fell like balm on all and each,     Rose a young face whose affliction     Choked and stayed the founts of speech     Stayed and shut the founts of speech!     Often doth she sit and ponder     Over gleams of happy hair!     How her white hands used to wander,     Like a flood of moonlight there!     Lord our Lord! Thou knowst her weakness:     Give her faith that she may pray;     And the subtle strength of meekness,     Lest she falter by the way     Falter, fainting, by the way!     Darling! saith she, wildly moaning     Where the grass-grown silence lies,     Is there rest from sobs and groaning     Rest with you beyond the skies?     Child of mine, so far above me!     Late it waxeth dark and late;     Will the love with which I love thee,     Lift me where you sit and wait     Darling! where you sit and wait?