PILGRIM THOUGHTS
WE sit always at the fork of the road
Where the thoughts of the world go by,
Seeking their goals in the hearts of men
To sully or purify.
Where the thoughts of the world go by,
Seeking their goals in the hearts of men
To sully or purify.
There stalks the incipient murder dream,
And envy and malice and pain
Crowd close behind with a selfish leer
Like the links of an unwound chain.
And envy and malice and pain
Crowd close behind with a selfish leer
Like the links of an unwound chain.
But, ah! the beautiful thoughts come, too,
The thought of a love that is pure,
The clean, high thought of a conquering soul,
And the rose-sweet hopes that lure.
The thought of a love that is pure,
The clean, high thought of a conquering soul,
And the rose-sweet hopes that lure.
And we sit forever beside the road
Keeping the pilgrim score,
But only the thoughts come into our hearts
To which we open the door.
Keeping the pilgrim score,
But only the thoughts come into our hearts
To which we open the door.