A voice said: "Follow, follow:" and I rose And followed far into the dreamy night, Turning my back upon the pleasant light. It led me where the bluest water flows, And would not let me drink; where the corn grows I dared not pause, but went uncheered by sight Or touch; until at length in evil plight It left me, wearied out with many woes. Some time I sat as one bereft of sense: But soon another voice from very far Called: "Follow, follow:" and I rose again. Now on my night has dawned a blessed star; Kind, steady hands my sinking steps sustain, And will not leave me till I shall go hence. |