Classic Poem

THE FOLD .

There is a fold, once dearly bought,
But opened now to all,
Reaching from regions high as thought,
Low as our race can fall:

Far up among the sunny hills,
Where breaks the earliest day;
Down where the deepest shadow chills
The wanderer's downward way.

There some have seen a Shepherd stand,
Who guards it day and night;
Mightier than all, His gentle hand,
His eyes the source of light.

I know, the feeblest that have e'er
Entered those precincts blest
Find everlasting safety there,
Freedom and life and rest.

But I have wandered far astray,
Blinded and wearied sore;
How can I find the plainest way,
Or reach the nearest door?

The silence with a voice is fraught —
When did I hear that tone? —
Awful as thunder, soft as thought,
Familiar as mine own.

" I am the Door, " those words begin;
I press towards that voice,
And, ere I know it, am within,
And all within rejoice.

THE PALACE

There is a Palace vast and bright;
Athwart the night's cold gloom
Stream its soft music and warm light, —
A Palace, yet a Home.

The guests who are invited there
Are called therein to dwell; —
" Laden with sin, oppressed with care, "
The calling suits me well.

They say none ever knocked in vain,
Yet I have often tried,
And scarce have strength to try again, —
Will one, then, be denied?

Again that voice my spirit thrills,
So strange, yet so well known;
Divine, as when it rent the hills,
Yet human as my own.

The golden portals softly melt,
Like clouds around the sun,
And where they stood, and where I knelt,
Behold that matchless One!

He pleads for me, He pleads with me,
He hears ere I can call;
Jesus! my first step is to Thee,
And Thy first gift is all!