The Prophet Lost in the Hills at Evening by Hilaire Belloc

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Strong God which made the topmost stars / To circulate and keep their course, / Remember me; whom all the bars / Of sense and dreadful fate enforce.

Above me in your heights and tall, / Impassable the summits freeze, / Below the haunted waters call / Impassable beyond the trees.

I hunger and I have no bread.

My gourd is empty of the wine.

Surely the footsteps of the dead / Are shuffling softly close to mine!

It darkens. I have lost the ford.

There is a change on all things made.

The rocks have evil faces, Lord, / And I am awfully afraid.

Remember me! the Voids of Hell / Expand enormous all around.

Strong friend of souls, Emmanuel, / Redeem me from accursed ground.

The long descent of wasted days, / To these at last have led me down; / Remember that I filled with praise / The meaningless and doubtful ways / That lead to an eternal town.

I challenged and I kept the Faith, / The bleeding path alone I trod; / It darkens. Stand about my wraith, / And harbour me -- almighty God!

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