WITHIN, a panic stricken throng

That sudden fear appals,

In blindest fury crashing close

Wide doors to rigid walls—

A wild fierce struggle, life or death,

Each holding ground with gasping breath

Until the weaker falls,—

Each inch of room a battle-field

Where one exults and one must yield.

Without, the boundless earth and air,

The depths of starry space,

Vast oceans that the strong white moon

Uplifts to her embrace;

Free winds of heaven blowing light,

Far planets wheeling through the night

To their appointed place,—

Marvels unseen to captives there,

Imprisoned by their own despair.

Within the gloomy walls of Doubt

Fierce factions wage their war;

Fair Hope lies slain where they have set

Negation's iron bar.

Pent in their narrow bounds they cry,

"No stars, no sky,—we struggle, die,

And know not why we are."

Oh, self-immured! ye cannot see?

Stand back!—your brother shall be free.

Stand back!—from 'neath your trampling feet

The young, the weak shall rise.

Their white lips breathe in silent pain

The prayer your pride denies;

Their pale hands clasp the faded flowers

Of faith that bloomed in happier hours

Beneath their childhood's skies.

Oh, still for these within your walls

May justice, truth and self-control

Set wide the gateways of the soul

To where, beyond, God's glory calls

Man's spirit to its goal.