THE WOMAN THAT CRIED IN THE CROWD.

She says within: "It is a man, A man of mother born; She is a woman—I am one, Alive this holy morn."

Filled with his words that flow in light, Her heart will break or cry: A woman's cry bursts forth in might Of loving agony.

"Blessed the womb, Thee, Lord, that bore! The breast where Thou hast fed!" Storm-like those words the silence tore, Though words the silence bred.

He ceases, listens to the cry, And knows from whence it springs; A woman's heart that glad would die For this her best of things.

Yet there is better than the birth Of such a mighty son; Better than know, of all the earth Thyself the chosen one.

"Yea, rather, blessed they that hear, And keep the word of God." The voice was gentle, not severe: No answer came abroad.