He was a failure; and one day he died.
Across the border of the mapless land
He found himself among a sad-eyed band
Of disappointed souls: they, too, had tired
And missed their purpose. With one voice they cried
Unto the shining Angel in command
"Oh, lead us not before our Lord to stand
For we are failures, failures. Let us hide."

Yet on the Angel fared until they stood
Before the Master. (Even his holy place
The hideous noises of the earth assailed.)

Christ reached his arms out to the trembling brood,
With God's vast sorrow in his listening face.
"Come unto me," he said, "I, too, have failed."

World Voices by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York : Hearst's International Library Company 1916.

Back to Poem Index