The Closed Gate
I walked along a narrow way;
The sun was shining everywhere;
The jocund earth was glad and gay,
With morning freshness in the air.
The grass was green beneath my feet;
The skies were blue and soft o’erhead;
The robin carolled clear and sweet,
And flowers their fragrance round me shed.
How shone the great hills far away;
How clear they rose against the blue;
How fair the tranquil meadows lay,
Where the bright river glances through!
But suddenly, as on I pressed,
Before me frowned a closéd gate;
Filled with dismay, and sore distressed,
I strove in vain to conquer fate!
Beyond, the hills for which I sighed—
Beyond, the valleys still and fair—
Beyond, the meadows stretching wide,
And all the shining fields of air!
What does it mean, O Father! when
Thy children reach some closéd gate,
Which, though they knock and knock again,
Will not its watch and ward abate?
Still shall they batter at the walls?
Or still, like children, cry and fret,
While the loud clamor of their calls
Swells high in turbulent regret?
When thou hast barred the door, shall they
Challenge thy wisdom, God of love?
Or humbly wait beside the way
Till thou the barrier shalt remove?
Too oft we cannot hear thee speak,
So loud our voices and our prayers,
While to the patient and the meek
The gate thou openest unawares!