As I sat upon the Aisle, I wondered starkly all the while:
‘Be these filled with shame and guile, or else their daunted face may smile.’
And in an empty wandering, their foolishness doth carnal sing,
For Ignorance, the bell, doth ring, and they think its sound is king.
“You know naught,” they tell the other; they have not learned to love their brother,
Nor hear him out for, themselves, they also smother; so the bell called ignorance shall be their mother.
There within them, insecure; and there is nothing of which they’re sure.
This they call humility, their minds a-blur; their faith: demurr.
The Rock on which they all could stand: that Word of Truth with outstretched hand,
They have forsaken for love of man, though think they avoid this sinking sand.
I’ll tell you of my dearest friend who in the end, all hearts will rend,
He careth not for earthly trend, and men like razors doth He send.
But man with carnal, wicked brow does not discern, disdains to bow,
They open ears to squealing sow, and think the truth is what she plow.
They think the genuine is the same, for fear of man their ears are lame.
When Truth arose: declared His name, they hid their face for very shame.
There in the Aisle I reasoned why, that all mankind believed a lie:
To walk with Truth the flesh must die; and every momment this is His cry.
Ignorance has no such stricture, do as you please, and feign your picture;
Comfort, alone, is her elixer, and heeding flesh creates this mixture.
The Aisle is lonely, I admit, but those who rest there have One Freind to show for it.
‘Yet ye have not known Him: and if I should say, I know Him not, I shall be a liar like unto you: but I know Him, and keep His saying.’ (John 8:55)