Classic Poem

This place is holy, Christ has been
In it to-day;
The little girl behind this screen
Has passed away.

Her soul has sought the boundless deep
Beyond these skies.
Then fold her wasted hands to sleep,
And close her eyes.

No more their glazing pupils see
This crowded ward;
She walks now in eternity
Beside her Lord.

Put back the dark hair from her brow,
And smooth her cheek;
Those white lips would be praying now
If they could speak.

Make straight each crippled limb again,
And raise her head;
It once would make her cry with pain
To touch her bed.

The winter shadows as they fall
Begin to hide
The little texts upon the wall
That were her pride.

But where she wanders far away
The hills are bright;
She rests, our little waif and stray,
With God to-night.