The speaker remembers a moment of overwhelming spiritual fullness—when heaven’s gates blazed open for her and angels looked into her face, almost tenderly brushing her. That ecstasy felt real and certain. But now she’s lost again, banished from that grace, and the sensation is deeply foreign, like being shut out of a home you only just entered. She tells a “Sir” that he’ll only understand this quiet devastation when the Savior’s face turns away from him, too. The mood shifts from a breathless, glowing memory to a cold, isolated ache. What was once a near-physical closeness with the divine has become an exile, and the poem holds that contrast with a raw, unadorned ache.
If I'm lost -- now — Summary
If I'm lost -- now That I was found -- Shall still my transport be -- That once -- on me -- those Jasper Gates Blazed open -- suddenly --
That in my awkward -- gazing -- face -- The Angels -- softly peered -- And touched me with their fleeces, Almost as if they cared -- I'm banished -- now -- you know it -- How foreign that can be -- You'll know -- Sir -- when the Savior's face Turns so -- away from you --