A certain wise man, deeply versed
In all the learning of the East,
Grew tired in spirit, and athirst
From life to be released.
So to Eliab, holy man
Of God he came: "Ah, give me, friend,
The herb of death, that now the span
Of my vain life may end."
Eliab gently answered: "Ere
The soul may free itself indeed,
This herb of healing thou must bear
To seven men in need;
"When thou hast lightened each man's grief,
And brought him hope and joy again,
Return; nor shalt thou seek relief
At Allah's hands in vain."
The wise man sighed, and humbly said:
"As Allah willeth, so is best."
And with the healing herb he sped
Away upon his quest.
And as he journeyed on, intent
To serve the sorrowing in the land
On deeds of love and mercy bent,
The herb bloomed in his hand,
And through his pulses shot a fire
Of strength and hope and happiness;
His heart leaped with a glad desire
To live and serve and bless.
Lord of all earthly woe and need,
Be this, life's flower, mine!
To love, to comfort, and to heal--
Therein is life divine!
--Josephine Troup.