quote · Legacy record
A dungeon, dark and drear As death, but in its cold and gloomy depths I see a form of beauty, round whose locks A glory plays, that lights the dungeon with A quivering lustre—she is stretched upon The damp cold earth, her head is pillowed on One arm, the while its fellow presses to Her heart a holy volume. O’er her eyes The dove of peace seems brooding, while deep sleep Heaves the long ringlets of the golden hair That cluster on her neck, and sweep the earth: A smile is lingering on her placid lip, As though she dreamt of heaven, the while her brow, As that same heaven, arched and calm, shoots forth A halo—in her breast a dove is nestling, And angel wings are spread to guard her dreams From evil—favoured one of God—who art thou? ’Tis patience, the beloved of Heaven! the meek, The mild, the lowly, and the gentle patience, Whose eye looks up to God; and ne’er unbends Its fixed and placid gaze to look upon The thorns that tear her bleeding breast; who stands Pale, calm, unmoved amid the storms of life; Whose soul weeps not for heart’s torture—patience, The meek-eyed pilgrim of the earth, that child Of heaven—perfection’s crown.
A dungeon, dark and drear As death, but in its cold and gloomy depths I see a form of beauty, round whose locks A glory plays, that lights the dungeon with A quivering lustre—she is stretched upon The damp cold earth, her head is pillowed on One arm, the while its fellow presses to Her heart a holy volume. O’er her eyes The dove of peace seems brooding, while deep sleep Heaves the long ringlets of the golden hair That cluster on her neck, and sweep the earth: A smile is lingering on her placid lip, As though she dreamt of heaven, the while her brow, As that same heaven, arched and calm, shoots forth A halo—in her breast a dove is nestling, And angel wings are spread to guard her dreams From evil—favoured one of God—who art thou? ’Tis patience, the beloved of Heaven! the meek, The mild, the lowly, and the gentle patience, Whose eye looks up to God; and ne’er unbends Its fixed and placid gaze to look upon The thorns that tear her bleeding breast; who stands Pale, calm, unmoved amid the storms of life; Whose soul weeps not for heart’s torture—patience, The meek-eyed pilgrim of the earth, that child Of heaven—perfection’s crown.
In print by 1888 AD · industrial
Recorded in a printed collection by this date; the original date of these words is still unknown.
Meaning not yet available
An individual explanation has not yet been added. We do not substitute a generic description for an interpretation of these particular words.
Begin with source-checked readings and explanations ↗Attribution & collection notes
- Author or tradition
- C. L. Reddell (identity unresolved)
Attribution: unknown - Country attributed
- Not established
A country attribution does not establish the earliest origin. - Historical period
- In print by 1888 AD · industrial
In print by 1888: recorded in A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations (catalogued1888). Collection publication is an upper bound for this wording, not its earliest origin, composition date or the author's lifetime.
An author lifetime, approximate period or collection date is not necessarily the date when these words were first written or spoken. - Recorded source
- A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations (catalogued1888) (1888 AD)
Page 432 · printed citation: C. L. Reddell · subject: PATIENCE
A collection's publication date can be later than the words it records.