Once, I remember, when we were at home <br />I had come into church, and waited late, <br />Ere lastly kneeling to communicate <br />Alone : and thinking that you would not come. <br /> <br />Then, with closed eyes (having received the Host) <br />I prayed for your dear self, and turned to rise ; <br />When lo ! beside me like a blessed ghost — <br />Nay, a grave sunbeam — you I Scarcely my eyes <br />Could credit it, so softly had you come <br />Beside me as I thought I walked alone. <br /> <br />Thus long ago ; but now, when fate bereaves <br />Life of old joys, how often as I'm kneeling <br />To take the Blessed Sacrifice that weaves <br />Life's tangled threads, so broken to man's seeing, <br />Into one whole ; I have the sudden feeling <br />That you are by, and look to see a face <br />Made in fair flesh beside me, and all my being <br />Thrills with the old sweet wonder and faint fear <br />As in that sabbath hour — how long ago ! — <br />When you had crept so lightly to your place. <br />Then, then, I know <br />(My heart can always tell) that you are near.<br /><br />Frederick William (FW) Harvey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bond-3/
