Two pursuits

A voice said, "Follow, follow": and I rose

And followed far into the dreamy night,

Turning my back upon the pleasant light.

It led me where the bluest water flows,

And would not let me drink: where corn grows

I dared not pause, but went uncheered by sight

Or touch, until at length in evil plight.

It left me, wearied out with many woes.

Some time I sat as one bereft of sense:

But soon another voice, from very far

Called, "Follow, follow": and I rose again.

Now on my night has dawned a blessed star:

Kind steady hands my sinking steps sustain,

And will not leave me till I shall go hence.