Counsel (The disciple)

(The Saviour of the World, Vol IV Book IV Poem LXVI)

As they are wariest guides who most have met
Mischance themselves, thy mother’s slips may yet
Shew thy feet, daughter, places to eschew.

Ah, sweet the mother-walk, but perilous!
And flowers do cheer the progress hazardous,
Tho’ heedless pilgrims chance on bitter rue!

But thou, my daughter, meekly glad, hast ta’en
A man from th’ Lord; thy joy hath wholesome pain
Of diffidence, safety’s sole pledge, for here,
Danger avoids, assurance keeps, in fear!

So hold thy soul ’neath heaven, as April earth,
Waiting the fall of counsel; nor in vain;—
Who hath so graced thee to a blesséd birth,
Will not his wisdom’s waterings refrain.