Here you will find the Poem Between The Gates of poet John Greenleaf Whittier
Between the gates of birth and death An old and saintly pilgrim passed, With look of one who witnesseth The long-sought goal at last. O thou whose reverent feet have found The Master's footprints in thy way, And walked thereon as holy ground, A boon of thee I pray. 'My lack would borrow thy excess, My feeble faith the strength of thine; I need thy soul's white saintliness To hide the stains of mine. 'The grace and favor else denied May well be granted for thy sake.' So, tempted, doubting, sorely tried, A younger pilgrim spake. 'Thy prayer, my son, transcends my gift; No power is mine,' the sage replied, 'The burden of a soul to lift Or stain of sin to hide. 'Howe'er the outward life may seem, For pardoning grace we all must pray; No man his brother can redeem Or a soul's ransom pay. 'Not always age is growth of good; Its years have losses with their gain; Against some evil youth withstood Weak hands may strive in vain. 'With deeper voice than any speech Of mortal lips from man to man, What earth's unwisdom may not teach The Spirit only can. 'Make thou that holy guide thine own, And following where it leads the way, The known shall lapse in the unknown As twilight into day. 'The best of earth shall still remain, And heaven's eternal years shall prove That life and death, and joy and pain, Are ministers of Love.'
