ENTERING IN
The church was dim and silent With the hush before the prayer, Only the solemn trembling Of the organ stirred the air; Without, the sweet, still sunshine; Within, the holy calm Where priest and people waited For the swelling of the psalm.
Slowly the door swung open, And a trembling baby girl, Brown-eyed, with brown hair falling In many a wavy curl, With soft cheeks flushing hotly, Shy glances downward thrown, And small hands clasped before her, Stood in the aisle alone.
Stood half abashed, half frightened, Unknowing where to go, While like a wind-rocked flower, Her form swayed to and fro, And the changing color fluttered In the little troubled face, As from side to side she wavered With a mute, imploring grace.
It was but for a moment; What wonder that we smiled, By such a strange, sweet picture From holy thoughts beguiled? Then up rose someone softly: And many an eye grew dim, As through the tender silence He bore the child with him.
And I—I wondered (losing The sermon and the prayer) If when sometime I enter The “many mansions” fair, And stand, abashed and drooping, In the portal’s golden glow, Our God will send an angel To show me where to go!