I folded away my garments of care,
I folded away my pain;
And forth I fared from the Inn of Despair,
Alone in the beat of the rain.
I was tired of the world and its tawdry gifts,
Tired of revel and fret;
And I longed for the comforting calm that uplifts
Wherein to rest and forget.
I was weary of shadows and shams that were mine,
Of the hopes that flare and cease;
And I longed for a cool, deep draught of wine
From the silver chalice of peace.
So I said good-by to my comrade, woe,
Good-by to hate and din;
And on I trudged, by upland and low,
At the urge of a voice within.
O lonely the way and thorny and wide!
O sable the night and cold!
Yet a little star came out to guide
With trembling ringers of gold.
A lily unlocked its luminous soul,
Far blowing the breath of its bloom;
And the shy, rich song of a nightingale stole
Across the lifting gloom.
Then, bonny the way, though steep and far!
Then, silken the night and still!
O golden voice and beckoning star
And cheer of the daffodil!
High on the hills of the morning it lay
By the eloquent ocean of thought,
Bright in the blue of a buoyant day—
This quiet kingdom I sought.
Through gates that never are shut I went
To the heart of its beauty rare;
And I sat me wearily down, content,
To rest in the Kingdom of Prayer.
Narcissus and rose and the splendor of spring,
Green stillness of forest and mead,
Irradiance, joy. and music a-wing,
And bread for the pilgrim's need!
Rapt reverie there forever furled
The power of things that seem,
Revealing every woe in the world
As a dying symbol of dream.
Sin I beheld as a castle in sand,
With the sea at bulwark and wall;
Affliction, greed, and their ebon band
As shifting shadows all.
I found that the pitiless wrongs which enmesh,—
The yoke, the lash, the bond.—
Reach only the fragile veil of the flesh
And never the substance beyond.
And I found that love is the sheath for strife,
The balm for wound and flaw ;
For Love is Truth, and Love is Life,
And Love is the cosmic law.
God spake to me there in the fathomless calm,
God spake to me there in the sweet ;
And His words were the deepening surge of a psalm
With comfort and healing replete.
His words were a flame, a sword, a flail,
A rush of enveloping light
Wherein my faith looked upward to hail
Eternal height upon height.
Great breakers of gladness over me dashed
In many a mighty sweep,
While the longing, hid in my heart, outflashed
As deep that calls unto deep.
O healing, exultant, beautiful hour,
With thought transfigured and free!
O white, white presence and indwelling power!
O vision of victory!
Agleam in the gardens of plenty it lies,
This country of sun and song,
Where the jubilant winds of courage rise
And the blooms of brotherhood throng.
High on the hills of the morning it lies,
This country of infinite scope;
And ever with myriad melodies
It calls me to harvests of hope,
Where the ripened fruits of reason heal
And springs of fulfilment start;
Ever it calls to the welcome and weal
That wait the wandering heart.
O deep and full is the happiness there,
Unshadowed by sighs of the sod!
O restful and pure is the Kingdom of Prayer,
The glorious gateway to God.
