At the Gate of the Golden Fane

I have heard him at the threshold of my door

And hesitating answered to His call

As one who signs for delivery of goods

Inviting not the Messenger in the hall.

Through the eyes of strangers ever he smiles on me

With a brightness shining in eyes that touch the soul

Waking a corresponding view within

And a deep persistent yearning towards the goal.

In silence now he hears my silent prayer

That slowly builds as old desires wane,

In the antechambers of the secret heart

He softly knocks at the gate of the golden fane.