But I dreamed of the face that would blush and pale 
     
     When my step should be heard! 
     
    
   
   
    
     Then, as we lifted heedless eyes, 
     
    

    
     We saw Him there, 
     
    

    
     Where the silver waters curled on the shore; 
     
    

    
     Behind Him the radiance of the skies 
     
    

    
     Shining over His long, fair hair 
     
    

    
     Wreathed it as with a crown of light; 
     
    

    
     And oh, the grandeur and the grace 
     
    

    
     Of that pale and kingly face—— 
     
    

    
     We were weary and hungered with toil of the night 
     
     .But we thought not of it more! 
     
    
   
   
    
     He looked upon us with eyes that must see 
     
     Far in our hearts past mortal ken; 
     
    

    
     All the delights of the world grew dim—— 
     
     Sweeter is seemed to suffer pain 
     
    

    
     And wander, outcast of men with Him, 
     
     Than share in another’s joy and gain; 
     
     Spake He thus royally, “Come with me; 
     
    

    
     I will make you fishers of men.” 
     
    
   
   
    
     Mother of her who weeps at my side 
     
    

    
     Cease to chide! 
     
    

    
     Thou knowest not how that one word rings 
     
     Ever by day and by night in my ear, 
     
    

    
     I cannot hearken to olden things 
     
    

    
     I cannot listen to hope or fear; 
     
    

    
     Mother of her who is dearest of all, 
     
    

    
     I must follow the Nazarene’s call! 
     
    
   
   
    
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