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...1914: 3. THE DEAD by RUPERT BROOKE TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: AZRAEL by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BIRTH SONG OF CHRIST by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN SONNET: POET TO POET by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON EBB TIDE AT NOON by FRANK GELETT BURGESS |