<h2><SPAN name="page61"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>THE HEIGHTS</h2>
<p class="poetry">I cried, ‘Dear Angel, lead me to the
heights,<br/>
And spur me to the top.’<br/>
The Angel answered, ‘Stop<br/>
And set thy house in order; make it fair<br/>
For absent ones who may be speeding there.<br/>
Then will we talk of heights.’</p>
<p class="poetry">I put my house in order. ‘Now lead
on!’<br/>
The Angel said, ‘Not yet;<br/>
Thy garden is beset<br/>
By thorns and tares; go weed it, so all those<br/>
Who come to gaze may find the unvexed rose;<br/>
Then will we journey on.’</p>
<p class="poetry">I weeded well my garden. ‘All is
done.’<br/>
The Angel shook his head.<br/>
‘A beggar stands,’ he said,<br/>
<SPAN name="page62"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
62</span>‘Outside thy gates; till thou hast given heed<br/>
And soothed his sorrow, and supplied his need,<br/>
Say not that all is done.’</p>
<p class="poetry">The beggar left me singing. ‘Now at
last—<br/>
At last the path is clear.’<br/>
‘Nay, there is one draws near<br/>
Who seeks, like thee, the difficult highway.<br/>
He lacks thy courage; cheer him through the day<br/>
Then will we cry, “At last!”’</p>
<p class="poetry">I helped my weaker brother. ‘Now
the heights;<br/>
Oh, Guide me, Angel, guide!’<br/>
The Presence at my side,<br/>
With radiant face, said, ‘Look, where are we now?’<br/>
And lo! we stood upon the mountain’s brow—<br/>
The heights, the shining heights!</p>
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