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 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
279
YE DID IT UNTO ME.
Since Christ is still alive in every manWho has within him one upspringing germ
Of heavenward-reaching life, though crushed, infirm,
And dwindling in the hot simooms that fan
Only the jungle-growths of earth, we can
Best minister to Him by helping them
Who dare not touch His hallowed garment's hem:
Their lives are even as ours,—one piece, one plan.
Him know we not, Him shall we never know,
Till we behold Him in the least of these
Who suffer or who sin. In sick souls He
Lies bound and sighing, asks our sympathies:
Their grateful eyes Thy benison bestow,
Brother and Lord! “Ye did it unto Me.”
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |