Hell’s forty thousand gates will open at his word,
Its narrow chambers deep with expectation stirred.
And as a man draws up his neighbour from a pit,
When he shall have therein through evil hap alit,
The prisoners he will draw from dungeons where they lay,
And extricating lift from the deep and miry clay,—
Will wash and cleanse their wounds where they have plaguèd been,
And clothe in garments white, and beautiful and clean;
And taking by the hand, will lead them to the gate
Of Paradise, where they must for a moment wait.