Lord, by what inconceivable dim road Thou leadest man on footsore pilgrimage! Weariness is his rest from stage to stage, Brief halting-places are his sole abode. Onward he fares thro' rivers over overflowed, Thro' deserts where all doleful centuries rage; Onward from year to year, from age to age, He groans and totters onward with his load. Behold how inconceivable his way; How tenfold inconceivable the goal, His goal of hope deferred, his promised peace: Yea, but behold him sitting down at ease, Refreshed in body and refreshed in soul, At rest from labour on the Sabbath Day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER by ROBERT BURNS THE HUSKERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER WHEN HELEN LIVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON by JOHN BANCKS THE FIRST AIR-RAID WARNING by EVELYN D. BANGAY UNDER THE WHARF by IDA COLE BARTLATT AT THE VILLAGE DEPOT by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY FORT GRISWOLD, SEPT. 6, 1781 by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |