The Child 5

5
The man of faith moves on along pitiless paths strewn with flints over
  scorching sands and steep mountainous tracks.
They follow him, the strong and the weak, the aged and young, the rulers of
  realms, the tillers of the soil.
Some grow weary and footsore, some angry and suspicious.
They ask at every dragging step, ‘How much further is the end?’
The Man of faith sings in answer; they scowl and shake their fists and yet
  they cannot resist him; the pressure of the moving mass and indefinite hope
  push them forward.
They shorten their sleep and curtail their rest, they out-vie each other in their
  speed, they are ever afraid lest they may be too late for their chance while
  others be more fortunate.
The days pass, the ever-receding horizon tempts them with renewed lure of
  the unseen till they are sick.
Their faces harden, their curses grow louder and louder.