The highest by the lowest waits alway: The mountains by the valleys, heaven's arch Above the crowding pettiness of earth Serene and holy, purifying floods Beside the festering caverns of the marsh. Cathedrals neighboring hovels, and the stretch Of endless ages past each dot of time. Extend your hand from whatsoever place. Though close and cramped by poverty and pain. And you shall touch the best of all that is. The Kingdom is at hand! Its robes of state Are rustling ''" you may hear them ''" Just behind This hindering wall of loneliness and grief. Its herald Just approached you, well disguised In ragged raiment soiled by work and wear. Its treasury behind that closet door Is full and shining. Close above your head And ready to your reach its sceptre floats. A step, and you may enter its broad lands. A step, and you may sit upon its throne. A word, and all Its armies leap to you. For God is pressing man insistently As any beggar, thrusting forth His good In all but main compulsion. "Oh," He groans, "That I might force my children to be blessed!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBINSON CRUSOE ['S STORY, OR ISLAND] by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL A VALEDICTION: OF WEEPING by JOHN DONNE AUSTERITY OF POETRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 24. COMPLIANCE IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES THE HUNCHBACK by JOHN PEALE BISHOP IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HONOUR DISHONOURED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |