Waiting at the Door by Margaret R. Radcliffe

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Sep 20, 1906

Waiting at the Door

By Margaret R. Radcliffe

OPEN the door, O, open the door! I know you closed it to one before, But I faint with hunger and cold; The one that knocked and prayed your grace— The man with agony writ on his face— You refused, but I am bold.

I own I have sinned in the bitter past, My birthright squandered with living fast, But you—have you no sin? As you carefully earned and meted your gold, Did you ever wander from the fold, Whence you were gathered in?

I'm a starving man, open the door; I have wandered far and returned footsore; “Starving for bread?”—Nay, nay; I am hungry for faith, for the bread of life, I am weary of evil's bitter strife; Show me a better way.

You say you walk in the steps of a Lord Who lived and died for the common horde, And all their misery bore; Who turned not one man hungry away; O Christian brother of Christ, I pray, I hunger, open the door!

I have begged of the wise, they gave me a stone; I have followed the world, but it left me alone, A scorpion sting in my breast. But you should have pity, the child of grace; Alas, you turn away your face: Where, where shall I find rest?

Is there no one who may guide my feet To a home of plenty, and waters sweet— Who will open the door to me? O God, if there be a God above, If thy Saviour Son hath a pitying love, His face then let me see.

It is late—but what is that light Shining from out the darkness, so bright? Ah, a Friend with a welcome face!

“I have come to seek that which was lost; To offer you bread that my life-blood cost; Wide stands the door of my grace.

“From door to door you long have strayed; At feet of wise and worldling laid Your need, that all might see. Can souls of men on learning live? The worldling, what has he to give The famishing to feed?

“And he, called falsely by my name, Had naught to give thee, ah, the shame Of such a gilded life: His long robes and phylacteries Hide leaner souls than worldlings wise, With all their evil rife.

“But thou, take all and fill thy soul With bread of life, and from the whole Feed thou my wandering sheep; Go up the mountain, down the dale; Where'er thou hearest a hunger wail, Go seeking, find and keep.

“Then you shall know that as you break This bread to others for my name's sake, Need you shall never know. Often as you shall ope the door To souls grown weary, sad, and poor, Your joy shall overflow.”

—Margaret R. Radcliffe.