O Sentinel at the loose-swung door of my impetuous lips,
Guard close to-day! Make sure no word unjust or cruel slips
In anger forth, by folly spurred or armed with envy's whips;
Keep clear the way to-day.
And Watchman on the cliff-scarred heights that lead from heart to mind,
When wolf-thoughts clothed in guile's soft fleece creep up, O be not
blind!
But may they pass whose foreheads bear the glowing seal-word, "kind";
Bid them Godspeed, I pray.
And Warden of my soul's stained house, where love and hate are born,
O make it clean, if swept must be with pain's rough broom of thorn!
And quiet impose, so straining ears with world-din racked and torn,
May catch what God doth say.