"Knocking, knocking! Who is there?
Waiting, waiting, oh, how fair!
'Tis a Pilgrim, strange and kingly,
Never such was seen before;
Oh! My soul, for such a wonder,
Wilt thou not undo the door?"
"Eighteen doors in this court," said the young minister, looking round on the people, who were all peeping out at him. "Eighteen doors, and every one of them open!"
"Listen to-night to the story of a door—a closed door!"
"Here is a closed door, and some one standing outside it. He knocks at the door; He calls out to the one inside; then He waits, He listens. There is no sound within; no one comes to open the door."
"He knocks again; He calls again; He listens again. No one comes."
"Will He walk again? No, He waits still; He knocks once more; He calls again; He listens again. No answer."
"Surely the door must be bolted and barred so fast inside that it cannot be opened, or perhaps the owner of the house is out, or asleep, or deaf, and does not hear the knocking."
"But look a little longer. Some more people come up to the door and knock, and as soon as ever they knock they are admitted. They are let in, and the door is shut in the face of Him who has waited so long."
"Many times in the day that door is opened to all kinds of people; but it is always closed in the face of the One who still stands outside."
"Does He weary of standing there? No; night comes, but He goes on knocking, goes on calling, goes on listening for any answer from within."