| |
| TO whom the burden heavy clings, | |
| It yet may serve him like a staff; | |
| One day the cross will break in wings, | |
| The sinner laugh a holy laugh. | |
| |
| The dwarfed Zacchæus climbed a tree | 5 |
| His humble stature set him high; | |
| The Lord the little man did see, | |
| Who sought the great man passing by. | |
| |
| Up to the tree he came, and stopped: | |
| “To-day,” he said, “with thee I bide;” | 10 |
| A spirit-shaken fruit he dropped, | |
| Ripe for the Master, at his side. | |
| |
| Sure never host with gladder look | |
| A welcome guest home with him bore! | |
| Then rose the Satan of rebuke, | 15 |
| And loudly spake outside the door: | |
| |
| “This is no place for holy feet; | |
| Sinners should house and eat alone! | |
| This man sits in the stranger’s seat, | |
| And grinds the faces of his own.” | 20 |
| |
| Outspoke the man, in truth’s own might: | |
| “Lord, half my goods I give the poor; | |
| If one I’ve taken more than right, | |
| With four I make atonement sure.” | |
| |
| “Salvation here is entered in, | 25 |
| For this is also Abraham’s son,” | |
| Said he who came the lost to win— | |
| And saved the lost that he had won. | |
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