MY feet had faltered in the way,
Before I was aware,
In the bleak road it was most mete
I should before the night complete,
The stony road that tore my feet--
Which were so bare.
My eyes were watchful as I went,
And steadfast night and day,
Through all the valley mists that rise
From spring to spring--I was so wise--
There were not any tearless eyes
More clear than they.
So sure upon the road I was,
My heart was cold as stone,
I would not let its passion wake,
I strove and killed it for the sake
Of that high way I thought to take,
Till Heaven were won.
So cold my heart and icy deep,
The dreams upon it cast,
My pain was like a frozen shroud
Round a dead Queen whose face is proud,
The while I said that God allowed
Such pain to last.
But came a day of all the days
That were so surely bleak,
My shroud was changed to leaping flame,
From sun and moon and stars there came
A fire to fill my heart--whose name
I dare not speak.
I did not stop for joy or fear,
I did not stay my feet,
I said 'My heart is strong as fire,
My heart shall burn with its desire,
Its rapture shall not break nor tire
This is most mete.'
Before I was aware, oh God,
Before my strength could choose,
I left the road so long decreed,
I faltered--and my steps were freed,
To find these flowers--for all my need--
These morning dews.
This summer bed of fragrant thyme,
For me so newly made,
These shining meadows through whose sun
Like little streams the shadows run,
Where now--before the day is done--
I am afraid.
My tears are wet upon my cheek
I have not any care,
Deep in the dews I bow my face--
To ask Thy pity in this place,
Where I have faltered by Thy grace,
So unaware.