Chapter II: Part I

Through the wide world went Marien
On a holy mission sent,
A little child of tender years,
Throughout the world she went.

And ever, as she went along,
Sweet flowers sprang ’neath her feet;
All flowers that were most beautiful,
Of virtues strong and sweet.

And ever, as she went along,
The desert beasts grew tame;
And man, the savage, dyed with blood,
The merciful became.

Now, if you will attend to me,
I will in order tell
The history of this little child,
And what to her befel.

No friend at all had Marien,
And at the break of day,
In a lonesome place within the world,
In quiet thought she lay.

The stars were lost in coming morn,
The moon was pale and dim,
And the golden sun was rising
Over the ocean’s rim.

With upturned eye lay Marien;--
“And I am alone,” said she,
“Though the blackbird and the nightingale
Sing in the forest-tree:

“Though the weak woodland creatures
Come to me when I call,
And eat their food from out my hand;
And I am loved by all:

“Though sun, and moon, and stars come out,
And flowers of fairest grace,
And whate’er God made beautiful,
Are with me in this place:

“Yet I am all alone, alone,
Alone both night and day!
So I will forth into the world,
And do what good I may:

“For many a heart is sorrowful,
And I that heart may cheer;--
And many a weary captive pines
In dungeons dark and drear;--
And I the iron bonds may loose,--
Then why abide I here?

“And many a spirit dark with crime,
Yet longeth to repent;
And many a grievous wrong is done
To the weak and innocent;--
And I may do the injured right,
May save the penitent!

“Up, I will forth into the world!”
And, thus as she did say,
Sweet Marien from the ground rose up
And went forth on her way.

Through the wood went Marien,
The thick wood and the green!
And not far had she travelled ere
A cruel sight was seen.

Under the green and leafy boughs
Where singing birds were set;
At strife about their heritage,
Two ruffian brothers met.

“Thou shalt not of our father’s land,”
The elder said, “have part!”
The younger brother spoke no word,
But stabbed him to the heart.

Then deep into the forest dark
With desperate speed he ran,
And gentle Marien stood beside
The bleeding, murdered man.

With pitying tears that would not cease,
She washed his wounded side,
And prayed him to have faith in Him
Who for the sinner died.

But no sign made the murdered man,
There stiff in death he lay;--
And Marien through the forest wild
Went mourning on her way.

Ere long, as she went wandering on,
She came to where there sat,
With folded arms upon her breast,
A woman desolate.

Pale was she as the marble stone,
And steadfast was her eye;
She sat enchained, as in a trance,
By her great misery.

“What ails thee, mother?” Marien said,
In a gentle voice and sweet;
“What aileth thee, my mother?”
And knelt down at her feet.

“What aileth thee, my mother?”
Kind Marien still did say;
And those two words, _my mother_,
To the lone heart found their way.

As one who wakeneth in amaze,
She quickly raised her head;--
And “Who is’t calls me mother?”
Said she, “my child is dead!”

“He was the last of seven sons--
He is dead--I have none other;--
This is the day they bury him;--
Who is it calls me mother?”

“’Tis I,” said gentle Marien,
“Dear soul, be comforted!”
But the woman only wrung her hands,
And cried, “My son is dead!”

“Be comforted,” said Marien,
And then she sweetly spake
Of Jesus Christ, and how he came
The sting from death to take.

She told of all his life-long love,
His soul by suffering tried:
And how at last his mother stood
To see him crucified.

Of the disciples’ broken hearts
She told, of pangs and pain;
Of Mary at the sepulchre,
And Christ arisen again.

“Then sorrow not,” she said, “as though
Thou wert of all bereft;
For still, though they beloved are not,
This blessed faith is left.

“That when thy dream of life is o’er
Thou shalt embrace thy seven,
More beautiful than earthly sons,
With our dear Lord in heaven!”

Down on her knees the woman fell,
And “blessed be God,” said she,
“Who in my sorest need hath sent
This comforter to me!”