THE GUEST.
Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.—Rev. iii. 20.
SPEECHLESS Sorrow sat with me;
I was sighing wearily;
Lamp and fire were out; the rain
Wildly beat the window-pane.
In the dark I heard a knock,
And a hand was on the lock.
One in waiting spake to me,
Saying sweetly,
"I am come to sup with thee."
I was sighing wearily;
Lamp and fire were out; the rain
Wildly beat the window-pane.
In the dark I heard a knock,
And a hand was on the lock.
One in waiting spake to me,
Saying sweetly,
"I am come to sup with thee."
All my room was dark and damp;
"Sorrow," said I, "trim the lamp,
Light the fire, and cheer thy face,
Set the guest-chair in its place."
And again I heard the knock;
In the dark I found the lock;
"Enter, I have turned the key—
Enter, Stranger,
Who art come to sup with me."
"Sorrow," said I, "trim the lamp,
Light the fire, and cheer thy face,
Set the guest-chair in its place."
And again I heard the knock;
In the dark I found the lock;
"Enter, I have turned the key—
Enter, Stranger,
Who art come to sup with me."
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