Lord, by what inconceivable dim road Thou leadest man on footsore pilgrimage! Weariness is his rest from stage to stage, Brief halting-places are his sole abode. Onward he fares thro' rivers over overflowed, Thro' deserts where all doleful centuries rage; Onward from year to year, from age to age, He groans and totters onward with his load. Behold how inconceivable his way; How tenfold inconceivable the goal, His goal of hope deferred, his promised peace: Yea, but behold him sitting down at ease, Refreshed in body and refreshed in soul, At rest from labour on the Sabbath Day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM by JOHN DRYDEN A SUMMER NIGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS A DEFIANCE, RETURNING TO THE PLACE OF HIS PAST AMOURS by PHILIP AYRES THE BOOK OF LOS by WILLIAM BLAKE |