DEATH, THY servant, is at my door. He has crossed the unknown sea and brought thy call to my home. The night is dark and my heart is fearful-yet I will take up the lamp, open my gates and bow to him my welcome. It is thy messenger who stands at my door. I will worship him with folded hands, and with tears. I will worship him placing at his feet the treasure of my heart. He will go back with his errand done, leaving a dark shadow on my morning; and in my desolate home only my forlorn self will remain as my last offering to thee.
STAND BEFORE my eyes, and let thy glance touch my songs into a flame. Stand among thy stars and let me find kindled in their lights my own fire of worship. The earth is waiting at the world's wayside; Stand upon the green mantle she has flung upon thy path; and let me feel in her grass and meadow flowers the spread of my own salutation. Stand in my lonely evening where my heart watches alone; fill her cup of solitude, and let me feel in me the infinity of thy love.
