At The Beautiful Gate Poem by Lucy Larcom

At The Beautiful Gate



LORD, open the door, for I falter,
I faint in this stifled air;
In dust and straitness I lose my breath;
This life of self is a living death:
Let me in to Thy pastures broad and fair,
To the sun and the wind from Thy mountains free;
Lord, open the door to me!

There is holier life, and truer,
Than ever my heart has found:
There is nobler work than is wrought within
These walls so charred by the fires of sin,
Where I toil like a captive blind and bound:
An open door to a freer task
In Thy nearer smile, I ask.

Yet the world is Thy field, Thy garden;
On earth art Thou still at home.
When Thou bendest hither Thy hallowing eye,
My narrow work-room seems vast and high,
Is dingy ceiling a rainbow dome.
and ever thus at my wide-swung door,
And toil will be toil no more!

Through the rosy portals of morning,
Now the tides of sunshine flow:
O'er the blossoming earth and the glistening sea,
The praise Thou inspirest rolls back to Thee;
Its tones through the infinite arches go;
Yet, crippled and dumb, behold me wait,
Dear Lord, at the Beautiful Gate!

I wait for Thy hand of healing;
For vigor and hope in Thee.
Open wide the door, — let me feel the sun!
Let me touch thy robes! — I shall rise and run
Through Thy happy universe, safe and free,
Where in and out Thy beloved go,
Nor want nor wandering know.

Thyself art the Door, Most Holy!
By Thee let me enter in!
I press toward Thee with my failing strength:
Unfold Thy love in its breadth and length!
True life from Thine let my spirit win!
To the saints' fair City, the Father's Throne,
Thou, Lord, art the way alone.

From the deeps of unseen glory
Now I feel the flooding light.
O rare sweet winds from Thy hills that blow!
O River so calm in its crystal flow!
O Love unfathomed — the depth, the height!
What joy wilt Thou not unto me impart,
When Thou shelf enlarge my heart!

To be made with Thee one spirit,
Is the boon that I lingering ask:
To have no bar 'twixt my soul and Thine;
My thoughts to echo Thy will divine;
Myself Thy servant, for any task. —
Life! life! I may enter, through Thee, the Door,
Saved, sheltered forevermore!

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Lucy Larcom

Lucy Larcom

the United States
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