All in the dark we grope along,
And if we go amiss
We learn at least which path is wrong,
And there is gain in this.
We do not always win the race.
By only running right,
We have to tread the mountain's base
Before we reach its height.
The Christs alone no errors made;
So often had they trod
The paths that lead through light and shade,
They had become as God.
As Krishna, Buddha, Christ again,
They passed along the way,
And left those mighty truths which men
But dimly grasp to-day.
But he who loves himself the last
And knows the use of pain,
Though strewn with errors all his past,
He surely shall attain.
Some souls there are that needs must taste
Of wrong, ere choosing right;
We should not call those years a waste
Which led us to the light.
Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago : W. B. Conkey, 1902.
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