The Left-hand Door.
Repentance.
I
Repentance is the lowly door,
That leads to yon baptismal well,
Which hath its source where Angels dwell:
Thence many an arching aisle doth soar,
Thence stretches many a sacred floor,
And many a thought-inspiring cell,
Peopling our sacred citadel:
At that blest fountain evermore,
Calm Faith, and holy Hope doth spring,
And Prayer bedews her wearied wing
There many a bright and Angel guest,
With varied plume and changeful vest,
Shall lead thee on, and thence shall bring
To God's own mount, thy place of rest.
II
But this no home for Fancy deem,
Still Morn and Evening, o'er and o'er,
Thou must stoop through the lowly door,
Still wilt thou at the threshold seem,
Still but awakening from the dream;
For what though Jordan's stream be past,
The Canaanite is gathering fast:
Still as thou travellest in the beam
Of that new morning, more and more
Thou shalt thy sinful self deplore:
Thy worldly wisdom still unlearning,
Still to a Father's house returning,
In lights of that celestial store,
Thine image lost the more discerning.
III
So daily may'st thou less become
In thine own eyes, and thus beguil'd
Into the likeness of a child,
The narrow gate shall give thee room:
As dawns the light of thy last home,
The wreaths of Eden, sin-defil'd,
Drop off, but thou art reconcil'd
To sorrow, leaving some, and some
Before thee gone, and waiting thee,
Where relics of lost Paradise
Are gathering; thus made lowly wise,
Till Life's dark porch shall set thee free,
And there shall break upon thine eyes
The temple of Eternity.
