The while my feet have seemed all time to plod
In weariness, my joyous thoughts outrun
The driven chariot of the morning sun;
And swift, my soul would dare heights yet untrod
(What time my feet are chained to this sod)
. And while my days slip backward, one by one.
My spirit dares to dwell these heights upon—
The consecrate and solemn heights of God.
Though erring mortal sense would whisper, Bow,
Bow thy head low; unworthiness confess,
For thou must die ere Love to thee may give
This revelation, Spirit answers, Now
Are we the sons of God; this loveliness
Is thine! Dare, unafraid, these heights and—live!
Poems
[Written for the Journal.]
EXALTATION
From the January 1909 issue of The Christian Science Journal
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