Poem March 3, 1934 Issue

The Way

ALICE JACQUELINE SHAW

There is a path the vulture hath not seen,
Nor the fierce lion passed by;
And there I go. This is my path I ween,
And none may descry it and none may tread it
But the assemblage of the blessed.
The lamb may go along it, but naught else.

This is the path that Mary found into Egypt,
Flying from the wrath of Herod;
This is the path Jesus found
When they wished to stone him;
It is the path out of the sepulcher.
No one can see it but those who tread it;
And they must tread it alone—
Alone, but with all the angels.

Seek for this path, it is beside you;
Look for it and you will find it.
Tear aside the brambles grown over the entrance;
Pass by the animality and hate—it is not the way
they go.
It will lead you where you least expect,
Into the secret place, into the judgment hall
Where there is a great silence, there it is.

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

The Way

We'd love to hear from you!

Sign up for unlimited access