The Faithful Bride

A Midrashic Parable

THERE is a legend (and ’tis quaintly sweet),

Of man and maid, who loved, long, long, ago.

But fate was cruel,—they were forced to part,

And she was left alone in grief and woe.

And she was left alone in grief and woe,

Nor heeded she their taunts and scornful jeers;

But in the secret vigils of the night,

His letters read again with many tears.

Sweet promises, writ to her long ago—

They warmed her heart these words of living flame;

And much men marveled, for her trust proved true;

With pomp and glory back her lover came.

“My own,” he said, “Why didst thou trust in me,

When men but mocked,—and I away so long?”

“Dear heart,” she said, “I read thy loving words,

Read and believed, and so my love grew strong.”

Wouldst read the moral in my simple lines?

The bride is Israel, her Beloved, He

Who ruleth heaven and earth, the Lord our God;

And she who was so sad, shall happy be.

And He shall say, “O tender rose of mine,

Which I have taken back beyond recall,

What kept alive thy simple faith in Me?”

“Thy Law, O Lord, which was my joy, my all!”