THE ESCAPE

Like one who runs

Fearful at night, he knows not why,

Dreading the loneliness, yet shuns

The highway's casual company;

Wherefore he hastes,

The friendly gloom of ancient trees

Unheeding, and the shining wastes

Lying broad and quiet as the seas;

The beauty of night

Hating for very fear, until

Beyond the bend a lowly light

Beams single from a lowly sill;

And the poor fool,

Flying the sacred, solemn dark,

Leaves gladly the large, cool

Night for that serviceable spark;

And thankful then

To have‘ scaped the peril of the way,

Turns not his timid steps again

That night, but waits the common day;—

So I, as weak,

Have fled the great hills of Thy love,

Too faint to hear what Thou dost speak,

Too feeble with fear to look above,

And hasten to win

Some flickering, brief security,

In sinful sleep or waking sin,

From the enfolding thought of Thee!