THE lowest place. Ah, Lord, how steep and high That lowest place whereon a saint shall sit! Which of us halting, trembling, pressing nigh, Shall quite attain to it? Yet, Lord, Thou pressest nigh to hail and grace Some happy soul, it may be still unfit For Right Hand or for Left Hand, but whose place Waits there prepared for it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOM DEADLIGHT by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LAST MAN: DREAM OF DYING by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES STATUETTE by DOLORES DOROTHE BOST FIRST MUSICIAN'S SONG, FR. LAODICE AND DANAE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY EPIGRAM TO DON ANTONIO, KING OF PORTUGAL by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) TO THE BEE BALM by JOHN BURROUGHS BALLAD TO A SPANISH TUNE, CALLED 'FOLIAS' by PATRICK CAREY |