18 April, 2012
18
But see, one comes; he listens to the voice;
Careful he wipes his weary dusty feet!
The voice hath spoken--to him is left no choice;
He hurries to obey--that only is meet.
Low sinks the threshold, levelled with the ground;
The man leaps in--to liberty he's bound.
The rest go talking, walking, picking round.
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Sweet friends, receive my offering. You will find
Below each worded page a white space set:--
This is the mirror of each friendly mind
Reflecting that. In this blog we are met.
Make it, dear hearts, of worth to you indeed:--
Let your white space be ground, my text be seed,
Growing to golden ears, that faith and hope shall feed.