 | Poems of Adoration |  |
13
FROM THE HIGHWAY
KING OF KINGS, Thou comest down the streetTo my door . . .
As from ankles of the heavenly feet
Of wild angels, tinkling pedals sweet,
And sweet bells;
As if water-carriers from bright wells
Jangled freshets to a dewless land,
Thou art called upon the air,
As Thou mountest to me, stair by stair:
In my presence Thou dost stand,
And Thou comest to me on my bed . . .
Lord, I live and am not dead!
I should be dead—
I, a sinner! And Thou comest swift . . .
Woe, to wake such love to roam about,
Wandering the street to find me out,
Bringing wholesome balm for gift,
As, in contrariety,
Come to Magdalen, not she,
O Pure, to Thee!
| Poems of Adoration | |