Classic Poem

True piety's the Way of Blessedness—
Search as we may, this truth remains the same.
I am not fit to speak His holy name,
Yet even I can tell how He will bless
One who contritely shall His name confess.
How often have I felt sin's hateful shame
Envelop me as a consuming flame
And torture me with merciless distress!
Where could I flee then but to Him the Pure
Who healed the leper, gave the blind his sight?
Earth's best and wisest have found Him a sure
And safe retreat; then so a witling might.
His friendly words of grace and peace endure:
My yoke is easy, and my burden light.

Would I could speak as with lips touched by fire—
Would I could tell of blessedness complete,
Of saintship, of communion long and sweet
With Him who is the purest hearts' desire.
But I can not; I only know that higher
And nobler life unveils to one whose feet
Attend the baptisms of the mercy-seat
Whence those redeemed from sin to Heaven aspire.
The peace of righteousness none can gainsay;
Beauty of holiness men must confess.
Surely from what we see of those who pray
And serve God honestly (though none the less
The hypocrite may have his unctuous day)
True piety's the Way of Blessedness.