Page:General William Booth enters into Heaven, and other poems.djvu/21

Rh THE DRUNKARDS IN THE STREET HE Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay,&mdash; Publicans and wantons&mdash; Calling, laughing, calling, While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away.

Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory, This comforter, this fitful wind divine? I the cautious Pharisee, the scribe, the whited sepulchre&mdash; I have no right to God, he is not mine.

Within their gutters, drunkards dream of Hell. I say my prayers by my white bed to-night, With the arms of God about me, with the angels singing, singing Until the grayness of my soul grows white.