While great was the disorder in the keep;
How could the curate’s visit do her good
in her last hours? Yet deep could answer deep.
“The Lord’s my Shepherd”, he began, and found
He heard another voice, feebly at first,
Recounting how God made His grace abound:
The Shepherd came to feed, and quench our thirst.
Out of the depth he called the learning child
Whose voice spoke in the woman’s breaking breath;
Words of God’s house, home of the reconciled
Were on her lips as going into death.
Deep answers deep; the Shepherd’s tender arm
Had folded her from pain, neglect and harm.