Among His Own

( In a Children's Chapel .)

H E lives among His own, the children's God:
Above and by and round Him hourly pass
Their hurrying feet; down hall or stairs, a pause,
And in the hush outside a knee is bent
In silent adoration of the Guest.
The Guest? Ah, no! The very Host is He,
And they the dwellers in His mansioned Heart.
For them the day is full of work and play,
Of ringing sounds, of mirth and little griefs
That brim a little soul; and they forget
The awful Presence, as the child forgets
His mother, when the day is very full, —
Forgets her in the mind, not in the will.
For though they come and go, and laugh and shout,
At nightfall, when the spirit's eyes are wide,
And conscience looks across the vanished hours,
They find, what all the day contented Him,
They have not left the path He'd have them tread;
His arms were 'neath them, and His voice was heard
In all the secret councils of their deeds.
And when they fall asleep they hold His hand.
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