And freedom, spacious and unflawed,
Who is walled about with God.
THE HOUND OF HEAVEN
By Francis Thompson
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him down the arches of the years;
I fled Him down the labrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."
I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside);
But, if one little casement parted wide.
The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
