Part 7 (1/2)

Thou sacred, sorrowing mother, canst thou learn-- Thou who hast gone so softly in G.o.d's sight-- Of me, the scarlet woman of old days?

Come, let us talk together, thou and I.

Apart, we see him darkly, through a gla.s.s; Together, we shall surely see aright.

Bring thou thine innocence, thy stainless soul, And I will bring deep lore of suffering, My dear-bought wisdom of defeat and pain.

For out of these may come, believe it thou, Sanct.i.ties not like thine, but fit to bear The bitter storms and whirlwinds of this world.

Aye, out of evil often springeth good, And sweetest honey from the lion's mouth.

And that he knew. That very thing he meant When he withdrew me from the pits of shame.

'T is I who see G.o.d s.h.i.+ning through the man.

I see the deity, the G.o.dlike strength In his supreme capacity for pain.

Nor have I known the cruel love of men These many years to err when now I say This man loved not like men but like a G.o.d.

Thou broken mother, weep not for the child, Mourn not the man. Acclaim the risen Christ!”

She turned and touched the other lovingly, Then stooped and peered into her darkened face.