A HALT

by: Robert Hugh Benson (1871-1914)

      ie still, my soul, the Sun of Grace
      Is warm within this garden space
      Beneath tall kindly trees.
      The quiet light is green and fair;
      A fragrance fills the swooning air;
      Lie still, and take thine ease.

      This silent noon of Jesu's love
      Is warm about thee and above --
      A tender Lord is He.
      Lie still an hour -- this place is His.
      He has a thousand pleasaunces,
      And each all fair and fragrant is,
      And each is all for thee.

      Then, Jesu, for a little space
      I rest me in this garden place,
      All sweet to scent and sight.
      Here, from this high-road scarce withdrawn,
      I thrust my hot hands in the lawn
      Cool yet with dew of far-off dawn
      And saturate with light.

      But ah, dear Saviour, human-wise,
      I yearn to pierce all mysteries,
      To catch Thine Hands, and see Thine Eyes
      When evening sounds begin.
      There, in Thy white Robe, Thou wilt wait
      At dusk beside some orchard gate,
      And smile to see me come so late,
      And, smiling, call me in.

"A Halt" is reprinted from Poems. Robert Hugh Benson. New York: P.J. Kenedy & Sons, 1914.

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