| |
| AND did he come again, | |
| Journeying through Jordan’s plain, | |
| And question what had chancéd since he left? | |
| What found he? Was his name | |
| Raised high in praise and fame, | 5 |
| Or was he of that meed of loving heart bereft? | |
| |
| Perchance the wounded man, | |
| As strength returned, began | |
| To murmur loud so little had been done: | |
| “He might as well have died | 10 |
| On that accurs’d hill-side, | |
| As linger on thus poor, life’s battle lost, not won.” | |
| |
| Ere yet the wounds were healed, | |
| He fain had all concealed | |
| The goodness of that friend of alien race; | 15 |
| “Was it not bitter shame | |
| That he should bear the blame | |
| Of kindly gifts received from one without God’s grace?” | |
| |
| And he who kept the inn, | |
| Thought he how best to win | 20 |
| His petty profit from the stranger’s pay, | |
| Afraid of spending more, | |
| Lest, when his task was o’er, | |
| Toil, care and silver coin might all be cast away? | |
| |
| When host and guest were met, | 25 |
| Did they alike forget | |
| All but the stranger’s hated race and creed? | |
| “Perchance the man had made | |
| Some ill gains in his trade, | |
| And sought to stay God’s wrath with love’s unbidden deed.” | 30 |
| |
| And when, at Paschal feast, | |
| Once more that heartless priest | |
| Through Jordan’s valley went with busier feet, | |
| Did host and guest unite | |
| To welcome with delight | 35 |
| And hasten to the gate great Aaron’s son to greet? | |
| |
| Seems it then overbold | |
| To guess the tale untold, | |
| New stories weave in parable or life, | |
| Vary the chosen plan, | 40 |
| Complete what Christ began, | |
| And find the whole with new and wondrous meaning rife. | |
| |
| Is not that story true, | |
| Good friends, for me and you, | |
| Are not we thankless, heartless, like the rest? | 45 |
| We, stript and wounded lay, | |
| And One passed by that way, | |
| And bound our wounds and healed, in blessing doubly blest. | |
| |
| And dare we now confess | |
| That power to save and bless, | 50 |
| Or are we silent in the face of foes? | |
| Do we too half complain | |
| So much was done in vain, | |
| And fearing shame or scorn sink back to our repose? | |
| |
| We, to whom Christ has given | 55 |
| The best gifts under Heaven, | |
| To heal the sick, and care for wounded hearts, | |
| Do we take pains to save | |
| Just half of what He gave, | |
| Stinting the wine and oil which heal the sore that smarts. | 60 |
| |
| Do we in secret speak | |
| Our murmurs poor and weak, | |
| Against His Truth and Majesty and Love, | |
| Whispering our words of scorn, | |
| As of a creed outworn, | 65 |
| And saying in our hearts, “He hears, let Him reprove”? | |
| |
| Ah, friends, be sure one day | |
| He comes, and will repay | |
| Love with much love, but scorn with anger just, | |
| Crown of true life and light | 70 |
| For those who love the right, | |
| But judgment sore for those who meet Him with distrust. | |
| |
