Long since, a dream of heaven I had, <br />And still the vision haunts me oft; <br />I see the saints in white robes clad, <br />The martyrs with their palms aloft; <br />But hearing still, in middle song, <br />The ceaseless dissonance of wrong; <br />And shrinking, with hid faces, from the strain <br />Of sad, beseeching eyes, full of remorse and pain. <br /> <br />The glad song falters to a wail, <br />The harping sinks to low lament; <br />Before the still unlifted veil <br />I see the crowned foreheads bent, <br />Making more sweet the heavenly air, <br />With breathings of unselfish prayer; <br />And a Voice saith: 'O Pity which is pain, <br />O Love that weeps, fill up my sufferings which remain! <br /> <br />'Shall souls redeemed by me refuse <br />To share my sorrow in their turn? <br />Or, sin-forgiven, my gift abuse <br />Of peace with selfish unconcern? <br />Has saintly ease no pitying care? <br />Has faith no work, and love no prayer? <br />While sin remains, and souls in darkness dwell, <br />Can heaven itself be heaven, and look unmoved on hell?' <br /> <br />Then through the Gates of Pain, I dream, <br />A wind of heaven blows coolly in; <br />Fainter the awful discords seem, <br />The smoke of torment grows more thin, <br />Tears quench the burning soil, and thence <br />Spring sweet, pale flowers of penitence <br />And through the dreary realm of man's despair, <br />Star-crowned an angel walks, and to! God's hope is there! <br /> <br />Is it a dream? Is heaven so high <br />That pity cannot breathe its air? <br />Its happy eyes forever dry, <br />Its holy lips without a prayer! <br />My God! my God! if thither led <br />By Thy free grace unmerited, <br />No crown nor palm be mine, but let me keep <br />A heart that still can feel, and eyes that still can weep.<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/divine-compassion-2/
