XXVII.

"O mother, mother, loose thy prayer! Christ's name hath made it strong. It bindeth me, it holdeth me With its most loving cruelty, From floating my new soul along The happy heavenly air. It bindeth me, it holdeth me In all this dark, upon this dull Low earth, by only weepers trod. It bindeth me, it holdeth me! Mine angel looketh sorrowful Upon the face of God.[1]