She, coming to the sacred portal, waits
With tear-wan face; her fair first-born she seeks;
Weary and grief-worn, at the shining gates,
With faltering lips his sweet home-name she speaks,
And He is in her arms!—With tender word
Of gentlest chiding, each to each revealed
The love that to the depths of feeling stirred
Hearts that brief absence near and dearer sealed.
O mother, mourning for thy fair first-born,
He tarries in his Father’s House of Light,