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Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By II. Patience

William Chatterton Dix (1837–1898)

“IF Thou hadst come, our brother had not died.”

Thus one who loved, to One who came so late;

Yet not too late, had she but known the fate

Which soon should fill the mourners’ hearts with tide

Of holy joy. Now she would almost chide

Her awful Guest, as though His brief delay

Had quenched her love and driven faith away.

“If Thou hadst come,” oh could we only hide

Our heart’s impatience and with meekness stay

To hear the Voice of Wisdom ere we speak.

We mourn the past, the tomb, the buried dead,

And think of many a bitter thing to say,

While all the time True Love stands by so meek,

Waiting to lift anew the drooping head.