THE FOLD AND THE PALACE.
THE FOLD.
There is a Fold, once dearly bought,
But opened now to all,
Reaching from regions high as thought,
Low as our race can fall.
Far up among the sunny hills,
Where breaks the earliest day;
Down where the deepest shadow chills
The wanderer's downward way;—
There some have seen a Shepherd stand
Who guards it day and night;
Mightier than all His gentle hand,
His eyes the source of light.
I know the feeblest that have e'er
Entered those precincts blest,
Find everlasting safety there,
Freedom and life and rest.
But I have wandered far astray,
Blinded, and wearied sore;
How can I find the plainest way,
Or reach the nearest door?
The silence with a Voice is fraught!
When did I hear that tone?—
Awful as thunder, soft as thought,
Familiar as my own.
"I am the Door," those words begin—
I press towards that Voice,
And, ere I know it, am within,
And all within rejoice.