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IV.
It was no spell of slumber
Which came upon him then,
No fitful gleams of a land of dreams
Which burst on his dazzled ken;
Which came upon him then,
No fitful gleams of a land of dreams
Which burst on his dazzled ken;
But he stood upon the borders
Of the land which we see afar,
Where earth's firmest ground dissolves away,
And men see things as they are.
Of the land which we see afar,
Where earth's firmest ground dissolves away,
And men see things as they are.
He saw a young child standing
In a famine-stricken land,
Intrusted with a bounteous store,
The gifts of a gracious hand.
In a famine-stricken land,
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The gifts of a gracious hand.
He saw it scatter its treasures
In idle and thankless waste;
And when from its idlesse startled,
It gave away the rest,
In idle and thankless waste;
And when from its idlesse startled,
It gave away the rest,
And the grateful people hastened
To garland its guilty head,—
It took the homage as its due,
Then cried like the rest for bread.
To garland its guilty head,—
It took the homage as its due,
Then cried like the rest for bread.
And stung with shame and anguish,
He cried, “It is I; it is I;
Father, forgive, forgive my sin!”
And he cried with a bitter cry.
He cried, “It is I; it is I;
Father, forgive, forgive my sin!”
And he cried with a bitter cry.
That cry reached the heart of the Father:
Once more he looked on high,
And in the depths of heaven,—
In the calm of the upper sky,—
Once more he looked on high,
And in the depths of heaven,—
In the calm of the upper sky,—
He saw 'midst the sea of glory,—
A glory surpassing bright,
One crowned with a Crown of Inheritance,
Clad in unborrowed light.
A glory surpassing bright,
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Clad in unborrowed light.
He saw Him leave the glory,
And lay aside the crown,
And to that land of famine
Come, touched with pity, down;
And lay aside the crown,
And to that land of famine
Come, touched with pity, down;
And gird Himself for service,
And minister to all:
No service was for Him too mean,
No care of love too small.
And minister to all:
No service was for Him too mean,
No care of love too small.
But men paid Him no homage,
They crowned Him with no crown;
And the dying bed they made for Him
Was not a bed of down.
They crowned Him with no crown;
And the dying bed they made for Him
Was not a bed of down.
What more then met his vision
Falls dimly on mortal ears;
The angels were mute with wonder,
And the poet with grateful tears.
Falls dimly on mortal ears;
The angels were mute with wonder,
And the poet with grateful tears.
The rebel will was broken,
The captive heart was free,—
“O Lord of all, who servedst all,
Let me Thy servant be!”
The captive heart was free,—
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Let me Thy servant be!”
He woke: once more he found him
In the home where he played a child;
His mother held his feverish hand,
His sisters wept and smiled.
In the home where he played a child;
His mother held his feverish hand,
His sisters wept and smiled.
He loved them more than ever,
With a pure and fervent love;
He loved God's sun and earth and skies,
Though his home lay far above.
With a pure and fervent love;
He loved God's sun and earth and skies,
Though his home lay far above.
His poet's crown lay near him
Fused to a golden cup;
It would carry water for parched lips,
So he thankfully took it up.
Fused to a golden cup;
It would carry water for parched lips,
So he thankfully took it up.
He went in the strength of dependence
To tread where his Master trod,
To gather and knit together
The family of God:
To tread where his Master trod,
To gather and knit together
The family of God:
Awhile as a heaven-born stranger
To pass through this world of sin,
With a heart diffusing the balm of peace
From the place of peace within;
To pass through this world of sin,
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From the place of peace within;
With a conscience freed from burdens,
And a heart set free from care,
To minister to every one
Always and everywhere.
And a heart set free from care,
To minister to every one
Always and everywhere.
No more on the heights of glory
A lonely man he stood;
Around him gathered tenderly
A lowly brotherhood.
A lonely man he stood;
Around him gathered tenderly
A lowly brotherhood.
They spent their lives for others,
Yet the world knew them not;
It had not known their Master,—
And they sought no higher lot.
Yet the world knew them not;
It had not known their Master,—
And they sought no higher lot.
But the angels of heaven knew them,
And He knew them Who died and rose;
And the poet knew that the lowest place
Was that which the Highest chose.
And He knew them Who died and rose;
And the poet knew that the lowest place
Was that which the Highest chose.
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