THE VISITANT

MARY J. ELMENDORF

MANTLED in might, Love knocks at your gate—
Love urgent of voice and tender of eye.
Think not it is night and He comes too late;
'Tis always morning when Love draws nigh.

Though bleak is the blast on the lonely wold
And the fickle sky has forgotten the sun,
Lone watcher, nor gray is the hour nor cold;
Love and the glory of summer are one.

Though the fangs of fear and smothery woe
You feel, though wounds and memories smart,
Throw open your gate that you may know
Content and the voice of a harp in your heart.

Loosen the latch and lower the bar
Which shut in gloom and the ghosts of sin;
Love waits to lay the light of a star
And the visioned joy of wisdom within.

From the pleasance of peace at the call of your need
Love comes on swift and exultant wings;
Throw open your gate and His message heed,
For heaven is ever the gift Love brings.

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