I Cried, 'Dear Angel, Lead Me To The Heights, And Spur Me To The Top.' The Angel Answered, 'Stop And Set Thy House In Order; Make It Fair For Absent Ones Who May Be Speeding There. Then Will We Talk Of Heights.' I Put My House In Order. 'Now Lead On!' The Angel Said, 'Not Yet; Thy Garden Is Beset By Thorns And Tares; Go Weed It, So All Those Who Come To Gaze May Find The Unvexed Rose; Then Will We Journey On.' I Weeded Well My Garden. 'All Is Done.' The Angel Shook His Head. 'A Beggar Stands,' He Said, 'Outside Thy Gates; Till Thou Hast Given Heed And Soothed His Sorrow, And Supplied His Need, Say Not That All Is Done.' The Beggar Left Me Singing. 'Now At Last - At Last The Path Is Clear.' 'Nay, There Is One Draws Near Who Seeks, Like Thee, The Difficult Highway. He Lacks Thy Courage; Cheer Him Through The Day Then Will We Cry, "At Last!"' I Helped My Weaker Brother. 'Now The Heights; Oh, Guide Me, Angel, Guide!' The Presence At My Side, With Radiant Face, Said, 'Look, Where Are We Now?' And Lo! We Stood Upon The Mountain'S Brow - The Heights, The Shining Heights!