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ON A PICTURE OF CHRIST BEARING THE CROSS.
And upwards, through transparent darkness gleaming,
Gazed, in mute reverence, woman's earnest eye,
Lit, as a vase whence inward light is streaming,
With quenchless faith, and deep love's fervency;
Gathering, like incense round some dim-veiled shrine,
About the Form, so mournfully divine!
Oh! let thine image, as e'en then it rose,
Live in my soul for ever, calm and clear,
Making itself a temple of repose,
Beyond the breath of human hope or fear!
A holy place, where through all storms may lie
One living beam of day-spring from on high.
