Category: Smith, Hazel Littlefield

Come Soon

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

This first Sunday of Advent, I thought I would share this lovely sonnet by Hazel Littlefield Smith. Hazel was born not too far from where I was raised in Michigan and spent her last years in Ann Arbor. She and her husband were missionaries in China for thirteen years during the “reign of the War Lords”. I love this sentence from her obituary: “Mrs. Smith never lost touch with the Michigan woods she loved so dearly.” I’m not sure where I came upon this poem of hers, but it seems perfect for the beginning of Advent.

Gerrit Dou – Old Woman at a Window with a Candle – GD-103 – Leiden Collection

Come Soon

I set my candle where the shadows loom,
A flame of faith between the eyes of fate,
And I am waiting in the windy gloom;
O come, my Love, for it is growing late.
Small doubts on darkling wings flit here and there
Uncertainly in the grey, lingering light,
Mysterious music haunts the troubled air,
And none but you can comfort me tonight.

I wait upon the moment’s hazard now;
Is there no power can hold the darkness back
Until you come? I do not disavow
Your promised love—the one thing I most lack.
The hour is late, dear Love, come soon, come soon;
Then shall the night be lovelier than noon.

Come soon

Sr. Dorcee, beloved4 Comments

My mom had only one sibling, a younger sister, my Aunt Dorothy.  After my mom died ten years ago, my aunt became my other mother.  I would tell her: “You’re the closest thing to my mother that I have, and I’m the closest thing to my mother that you have.”  I could go visit her and feel like I was at my mom’s.  I could find the same unconditional love there as I did at my mom’s.  She’s been sick the last couple of months with recurrence of cancer, and I was able to spend some good times with her.  My cousin, Matt, called yesterday and said that she had taken a turn for the worse, so I drove up immediately to see her.  She was unresponsive, but I was able to tell her I loved her and God loved her and thank her for everything.  This morning I found out that she died peacefully a half hour after I left, with her two youngest children holding her, one of them with her hand on my aunt’s heart. 

I can’t help but think that I’m starting Advent early.  Advent is all about Christ’s coming, His first coming and His second coming, and these kinds of comings at the moment of death.  Of course, I’m mourning her loss.  I’ve lost my other mother.   I’m now the oldest on that side of the family.  But she’s with the One who loves her the most.  The One we all long to be with.  This poem has been going through my mind the past few hours. 

Come Soon

I set my candle where the shadows loom,
A flame of faith between the eyes of fate,
And I am waiting in the windy gloom;
O come, my Love, for it is growing late.
Small doubts on darkling wings flit here and there
Uncertainly in the grey, lingering light;
Mysterious music haunts the troubled air,
And none but you can comfort me tonight.

I wait upon the moment’s hazard now;
Is there no power can hold the darkness back
Until you come?  O do not disavow
Your promised love–the one thing I most lack.
The hour is late, dear Love, come soon, come soon;
Then shall the night be lovelier than noon.

               ~Hazel Littlefied Smith

My aunt now knows the one thing she most lacked, for her Love has come for her.  May He come soon for all of us “waiting in the windy gloom.”