O mother, from thy home beyond the stars
Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child
For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild
And piteous moaning for thy soft caress?
Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness
And the low patience of thy loving voice?
Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars,
Pant as a bird behind its prison bars,
For freedom to fly forth and be with thee?
And canst thou not, sweet mother, send reply?
Oh, thro' the depths of glory, thro' the sky,
Look for one moment down and say to me
That all of loss on earth thou findest to be
Great gain in heaven; that thou dost rejoice
In all that was, and is, and shall betide
At last to all; and that, in Him who died,
Yet liveth evermore, I, too, shall see
All discord blended into harmony;
And that I, too, shall be, as thou art, satisfied.