Guests

Pain knocked upon my door and said
that she had come to stay,
And though I would not welcome her
But bade her go away,
She entered in.
Like my own shade
She followed after me,
And from her stabbing, stinging sword
No moment was I free.
And then one day another knocked
Most gently at my door.
I cried, "No, Pain is living here,
There is not room for more."
And then I heard His tender voice,
"Tis I, be not afraid."
And from the day He entered in,
The difference it made!

by Martha Snell Nicholson