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The Hound Of Heaven
(Francis Thompson  -  b.1859)
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes, I sped;
And shot precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.

But with unhurrying chase,
With unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat- and a Voice beat
More instant than the feet-
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."


(note: more of this stupendous poem coming soon)
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