Classic Poem

Lord, art Thou here? far from the citied zones,
Brooding in melancholy solitude;
Hushing Thy breath to awful undertones,
Darkening Thy face, if mortal foot intrude.
Father, how shall I meet Thee in this mood?
How shall I ask Thee why Thou dwell'st with stones,
While far away the world, like Lazarus, groans,
Sick for Thy healing. Father, if Thou be'st good,
And wise, and gentle, oh come down, come down!
Come like an Angel with a human face,
Pass through the gates into the hungry Town,
Comfort the weary, send the afflicted grace,
Shine brighter on the Graves where we lay down
Our dear ones, cheer them in the narrow place!