THE ROAD TO AVERNUS 



Was there nothing that once was created fair 

 In the potter's perishing clay ? 



Is it well for the sinner that souls endure ? 



For the sinless soul is it well ? 

 Does the pure child lisp to the angels pure ? 



And where does the strong man dwell, 

 If the sad assurance of priests be sure, 



Or the tale that our preachers tell ? 



The unclean has follow'd the undefiled, 

 And the ill may regain the good, 



And the man may be even as the little child ! 

 We are children lost in the wood — 



Lord ! lead us out of this tangled wild, 



Where the wise and the prudent have been 

 beguiled, 

 And only the babes have stood. 



