There are more ways to heaven than mortals know;
One reaches it through solemn praise and prayer,
Another through the worth of actions fair,
Another through the martyr's fiery woe.
In some the tides of goodness ebb and flow,
And only God their future may declare;
Some storm salvation, with a martial air,
And burst its gates at one triumphant blow.
Love, Love, alone approaches with a smile,
Opens the fastenings with familiar grace,
And treads at ease across the jasper aisle;--
Treads slowly, gazing in God's greeting face,
Confidingly, unfearing, free from guile,
For Love is walking in his native place.