UNRECORDED

I LIKE to think of the many words

The Master in his early days

Must have spoken to them of Nazareth-— Words not freighted with life and death, Piercing through soul and heart like swords. But gracious greeting and grateful phrase, The simple speech

That plain folk utter each to each.

Ere over him too darkly lay

The prophet shadow of Calvary,

I think he talked in very truth With the innocent gayety of youth, Laughing upon some festal day, Gently, with sinless boyhood’s glee.

I think if he had ever said

To a mother apart,

Cradling her baby’s shining head,

“Thy man—child is strong of limb and heart,” She must have been from that gladsome day Thrilied with enduring pride alway, Fearless of any future dread,

Knowing the son upon her knee

Worthy her pain and love would be.

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