|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Joyce Kilmer|
|Citizen of the World|
No longer of Him be it said|
“He hath no place to lay His head.”
In every land a constant lamp|
Flames by His small and mighty camp.
There is no strange and distant place|
That is not gladdened by His face.
And every nation kneels to hail|
The Splendour shining through Its veil.
Cloistered beside the shouting street,|
Silent, He calls me to His feet.
Imprisoned for His love of me|
He makes my spirit greatly free.
And through my lips that uttered sin|
The King of Glory enters in.
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Lane Core Jr. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Created April 3, 2001; not revised.