Classic Poem

Lines sent with a book bearing the above title

The Perfect Way — ah, who shall say
He holds the mystic clue,
Up that steep rath the hidden path
To find and to pursue?

No stars above with eyes of love
Direct us when astray;
With faith and hope we feel and grope
Through thick'ning gloom our way.

Anon around sweet voices sound,
And breaths of frankincense,
As breezes thrill a glassy rill,
Awake each latent sense.

To climb and pant, the Hierophant
The Acolyte hath doomed,
Until within the dross of sin
By penance be consumed.

Then sorely tried and mortified,
The flesh to spirit yields,
With truer might than in the fight
The hero's sabre wields.