"Why sought ye me? Did ye not know
My father's work I do?"
Mother, if He that work forego,
Not long He cares for you.
"Why sought ye me?" Ah, mother dear!
The gulf already opes,
That soon will keep thee to thy fear,
And part thee from thy hopes.
A greater work He hath to do,
Than they can understand;
And therefore mourn the loving few,
With tears throughout the land.
3.
The Lord of life beside them rests;
They quaff the merry wine;
They do not know, those wedding guests,
The present power divine.
Believe, on such a group He smiled,
Though He might sigh the while;
Believe not, sweet-souled Mary's child
Was born without a smile.
He saw the pitchers high upturned,
The last red drops to pour;
His mother's cheek with triumph burned,
And expectation wore.
He knew the prayer her bosom housed,
He read it in her eyes.
Her hopes in Him sad thoughts have roused,
Before her words arise.
"They have no wine," the mother said,
And ceased while scarce begun;
Her eyes went on, "Lift up thy head,
Show what Thou art, my Son!"
A vision rose before his eyes,
The cross, the early tomb,
The people's rage, the darkened skies,
His unavoided doom.