Reuben and Other Poems by Robert Leighton |
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AT THE CHURCH DOOR. |
 | Reuben and Other Poems |  |
AT THE CHURCH DOOR.
They have been hearing how the highest name
Of all the world by a poor man was borne,
And judged the great ones of his day to blame,
Who held that name in scorn.
Of all the world by a poor man was borne,
And judged the great ones of his day to blame,
Who held that name in scorn.
They have been hearing how that he himself
Look'd with God's eye alike on rich and poor,
And even thought the holder of the pelf
Was not of heaven so sure.
Look'd with God's eye alike on rich and poor,
And even thought the holder of the pelf
Was not of heaven so sure.
They have been hearing how with him, who might
Have chosen from the highest in the land,
Poor fishermen found favour in his sight,
And welcome at his hand:
Have chosen from the highest in the land,
Poor fishermen found favour in his sight,
And welcome at his hand:
And how that all he said and did on earth
Went to uplift the lowly, and to make
All mankind brothers, of one equal birth,
For God the Father's sake.
Went to uplift the lowly, and to make
All mankind brothers, of one equal birth,
For God the Father's sake.
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Surely, inside the Church one life had flow'd
From heart to heart—one light, one hope had shone
From heaven, upon one family of God,
Kneeling around one throne!
From heart to heart—one light, one hope had shone
From heaven, upon one family of God,
Kneeling around one throne!
Yet see them at the door, where rustling Wealth
Meets in a swarm of smiles and shaking hands;
While Poverty shrinks out and off by stealth,
Or at a distance stands.
Meets in a swarm of smiles and shaking hands;
While Poverty shrinks out and off by stealth,
Or at a distance stands.
If, passing to their carriage, rich eyes dare
On lowly fellow-worshipper to rest,
'Tis with the cruel patronising air
That stabs the poor proud breast.
On lowly fellow-worshipper to rest,
'Tis with the cruel patronising air
That stabs the poor proud breast.
Not with that perfect oneness of their Lord,
Whose breath, more potent than the strongest blast,
Broke down all earthly difference, ignored
The very thought of caste.
Whose breath, more potent than the strongest blast,
Broke down all earthly difference, ignored
The very thought of caste.
O impious Rich, with your unchristian arts,
And this his Sabbath, this his temple door!
O recreant Poor, with Christ within your hearts,
To feel that you are poor.
And this his Sabbath, this his temple door!
O recreant Poor, with Christ within your hearts,
To feel that you are poor.
| Reuben and Other Poems | |