THE lowest place. Ah, Lord, how steep and high That lowest place whereon a saint shall sit! Which of us halting, trembling, pressing nigh, Shall quite attain to it? Yet, Lord, Thou pressest nigh to hail and grace Some happy soul, it may be still unfit For Right Hand or for Left Hand, but whose place Waits there prepared for it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE GARDEN AT THE DAWN HOUR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 8 by EZRA POUND THE PRIESTHOOD by GEORGE HERBERT A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 13 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 27 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN |