Pastor's Wife

A poem.

Elisient Maeve Vernon

A lady of talent, a lady of love.

Devout, sincere, a true witness of God's love.

Tactful, gentle, humble, and refined—

Sweetness, goodness, and understanding combined.


But she is also made of flesh like you,

With human weaknesses and passions too;

With a woman's need for love and gratitude

And a woman's scorn for the base and crude.


But how often she is misunderstood,

This gentle creature, so kind and good.

Who knows the many tears she's shed

When weary and worn, she seeks her bed.


But who knows the anxious thoughts and fears

When sickness in her home appears?

When the bills run high and problems arise,

Who sees the torment in her eyes?


But who knows the lonely hours that come

When her husband is called away from home?

God knows, for very often He hears her pleas

As she seeks for comfort upon her knees.


But, oh, my friends, she's not made out of gold,

Give her a sympathetic hand to hold.

A word of comfort, a word of praise

Will help her through her gloomy days.

—Elisient Maeve Vernon