Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911. Poems
Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library

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"FISHERS OF MEN."



I had a dream, a varied dream:
Before my ravished sight
The city of my Lord arose,
With all its love and light.


The music of a myriad harps
Flowed out with sweet accord;
And saints were casting down their crowns
In homage to our Lord.

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My heart leaped up with untold joy,
Life's toil and pain were o'er;
My weary feet at last had found
The bright and restful shore.


Just as I reached the gates of light,
Ready to enter in,
From earth arose a fearful cry
Of sorrow and of sin.


I turned, and saw behind me surge
A wild and stormy sea;
And drowning men were reaching out
Imploring hands to me.


And ev'ry lip was blanched with dread,
And moaning for relief;
The music of the golden harps
Grew fainter for their grief.


Let me return, I quickly said,
Close to the pearly gate;
My work is with these wretched ones,
So wrecked and desolate.


An angel smiled and gently said:
This is the gate of life,
Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes,
Its weariness and strife,




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To comfort hearts that sigh and break,
To dry the falling tear,
Wilt thou forego the music sweet
Entrancing now thy ear?


I must return, I firmly said,
The strugglers in that sea
Shall not reach out beseeching hands
In vain for help to me.


I turned to go; but as I turned
The gloomy sea grew bright,
And from my heart there seemed to flow
Ten thousand cords of light.


And sin-wrecked men, with eager hands
Did grasp each golden cord;
And with my heart I drew them on
To see my gracious Lord.


Again I stood beside the gate.
My heart was glad and free;
For with me stood a rescued throng
The Lord had given me.

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