WHEN I pass out to the light, From dark to exceeding bright, From cold to the warmth of the sun, How shall that good be won? What is the way for me, Master, how shall it be? How if the longed-for way Which I hunger for to-day, Which I pray for with eager breath, Should be the way called death? Were this the way for me, Master, how would it be? How if the way I seek With footsteps weary and weak, Scarcely able to move, Should be the way called love? Were this the way for me, Master, how would it be? How if the way I desire Should lie through the heart of the fire, And glowing bonds amain Clasped me in utter pain? Were this the way for me, Master, how would it be? I know not, dear my Lord; Humbly I wait Thy word; Through death, love, pain, I need Only Thy hand to lead; And the one true way for me, Master, is trusting Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON BLIND by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE FELIX OPPORTUNITATE MORTIS by ALFRED AUSTIN THE LAME SHEPHERD by KATHARINE LEE BATES FROM A TRENCH by MAUD ANNA BELL GOD OF PROGRESS by ALICE GILL BENTON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 30 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |