Be pitiful, oh God!—for I am weak,
And all my paths are rough, and hedged about,—
Hold Thou my hand dear Lord, and lead me out,
And bring me to the city which I seek,—
Pity me, oh my God!
By the temptation which Thou didst endure,
And by Thy fasting and Thy midnight prayer,
Jesu! let me not utterly despair;
Oh! hide me in the Rock from ill secure,—
Pity me, oh my God!
Mine eyes run down with tears that do not cease;
Oh! when beyond the river dark and cold,
Shall I the white walls of my home behold,—
The shining palaces—the streets of gold,—
And enter through the gates the City of Peace,—
Pity me, oh my God!
BEYOND
Cloudy argosies are drifting down into the purple dark,
And the long low amber reaches, lying on the horizon's mark,
Shape themselves into the gateways, dim and wonderful unfurled,
Gateways leading through' the sunset, out into the underworld.
How my spirit vainly flutters, like a bird that beats the bars,
To be launched upon that ocean, with its tides of throbbing stars,
To be gone beyond the sunset, and the day's revolving zone,
Out into the primal darkness, and the world of the unknown!
Hints and guesses of its grandeur, broken shadows, sudden gleams,
Like a falling star shoot past me, quenched within a sea of dreams,—
But the unimagined glory lying in the dark beyond,
Is to these as morn to midnight, or as silence is to sound.
Sweeter than the trees of Eden, dropping purple blooms, and balm,
Are the odors wafted toward me from its isles of windless calm,—
And the gold of all our sunsets, with their sapphire all impearled,
Would not match the fused and glowing heaven of that under world.
Pale sea-buds there weep forever, water lilies damp and cool,
And the mystic lotus shining through its white waves beautiful,
In those dusk and sunless valleys, where no steps of mortals tread,
Bind the white brows of the living, whom we blindly call the dead.
Oh ye lost ones,—ye departed, who have passed that silent shore,
Though we call you through the sunset, ye return to us no more.
Have ye found those blessed islands where earth's toils and sorrows
cease?
Do ye wear the sacred lotus,—have ye entered into peace?