Find ye that life is anguish, and that self-love is a chain
That binds thy quivering soul, and cuts with biting stings of pain?
Grieve ye where Slander’s serpents trail beneath fair flowers of Trust?
Or weep where Friendship buried lies ’neath Hatred’s fulsome dust?
Then listen,—Selfish sweets are brief, and fleeting self-hood’s ties,
But there abides a fadeless Love, a Life that never dies;
A path there is which Serpent slime hath never yet defiled,
Where weary feet find rest and peace, and are no more beguiled:
And that pure Love and Life are his whose inmost heart is free.
From unforgiveness, judgment false, and self and enmity;
And that fair Path of Peace he walks whose memory holds no stain
Of injuries past; that blameless heart hath reached the end of pain.
More Articles by This Author James Allen
James Allen was a little-known philosophical writer and poet. He is best recognized for his book, As a Man Thinketh. Allen wrote about complex subjects such as faith, destiny, love, patience, and religion but had the unique ability of explaining these subjects clearly and in a way that is easy to understand. He often wrote about cause and effect, sowing and reaping, as well as overcoming sadness, sorrow, and grief. For more information on the life of James Allen, click here.