“Though I take the wings of the morning.”
Sweet are His ways who rules above,
He gives from wrath a sheltering place;
But covert none is found from grace,
Man shall not hide himself from love.
What though I take to me the wide
Wings of the morning and forth fly,
Faster He goes, whoso care on high
Shepherds the stars and doth them guide.
What though the tents foregone, I roam
Till day wax dim lamenting me;
He wills that I shall sleep to see
The great gold stairs to His sweet home.
What though the press I pass before,
And climb the branch, He lifts his face;
I am not secret from His grace
Lost in the leafy sycamore.
What though denied with murmuring deep
I shame my Lord,—it shall not be;
For He will turn and look on me,
Then must I think thereon and weep.
The nether depth, the heights above,
Nor alleys pleach’d of Paradise,
Nor Herod’s judgment-halls suffice:
Man shall not hide himself from love.
(Jean Ingelow)
More Poetry from Jean Ingelow:
Jean Ingelow Poems based on Topics: Love, Man, Faces, Home, Place, Morning- The Monitions of the Unseen (Jean Ingelow Poems)
- The Maid-Martyr (Jean Ingelow Poems)
- The Dreams That Came True (Jean Ingelow Poems)
- A Story Of Doom: Book I. (Jean Ingelow Poems)
- A Parson's Letter To A Young Poet (Jean Ingelow Poems)
- A Story Of Doom: Book III. (Jean Ingelow Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, Faces Poems, Place Poems, Home Poems, Morning PoemsBased on Keywords: lord-, pleach