They found Him not, those youths of soul divine, Long seeking, wandering, watching on life's shore; Reasoning, aspiring, yearning for the light, Death came and found them--doubting as before. But years passed on; and lo! the Charmer came, Pure, simple, sweet, as comes the silver dew, And the world knew him not,--he walked alone Encircled only by his trusting few. Like the Athenian sage, rejected, scorned, Betrayed, condemned, his day of doom drew nigh; He drew his faithful few more closely round, And told them that his hour was come--to die. "Let not your heart be troubled," then He said, "My Father's house hath mansions large and fair; I go before you to prepare your place, I will return to take you with me there." And since that hour the awful foe is charmed, And life and death are glorified and fair; Whither He went we know, the way we know, And with firm step press on to meet him there. KNOCKING "Behold, I stand at the door and knock." Knocking, knocking, ever knocking? Who is there? 'Tis a pilgrim, strange and kingly, Never such was seen before;-- Ah, sweet soul, for such a wonder Undo the door. No,--that door is hard to open; Hinges rusty, latch is broken; Bid Him go. Wherefore, with that knocking dreary Scare the sleep from one so weary? Say Him,--no. Knocking, knocking, ever knocking? What! Still there? O sweet soul, but once behold Him, With the glory-crownèd hair; And those eyes, so strange and tender, Waiting there; Open! Open! Once behold Him,-- Him, so fair. Ah, that door! Why wilt Thou vex me, Coming ever to perplex me? For the key is stiffly rusty, And the bolt is clogged and dusty; Many-fingered ivy-vine Seals it fast with twist and twine; Weeds of years and years before Choke the passage of that door. Knocking! knocking! What! still knocking? He still there? What's the hour? The night is waning,-- In my heart a drear complaining, And a chilly, sad unrest! Ah, this knocking! It disturbs me, Scares my sleep with dreams unblest! Give me rest, Rest,--ah, rest! Rest, dear soul, He longs to give thee; Thou hast only dreamed of pleasure, Dreamed of gifts and golden treasure, Dreamed of jewels in thy keeping, Waked to weariness of weeping;-- Open to thy soul's one Lover, And thy night of dreams is over,-- The true gifts He brings have seeming More than all thy faded dreaming!