Somewhere I have read of an aged monk
Who, kneeling one day in his cell,
Beheld in a glorious vision the form
Of the dear Lord Christ; and there fell
Upon him a rapture, wondrously sweet,
And his lips could frame no word,
As he gazed on the form and noted the love
That beamed from the face of his Lord.
There came to his ears the sound of a bell
Which called him early and late
To carry loaves to the wretched poor
Who lingered about the gate.
Could he leave his cell now glorified
By the presence of the Christ,
The Blessed Son, the Holy One,
His Saviour, the Sacrificed?
He went to his act of mercy, and when
He returned to his cell, the dim
Gay light was dispelled as the loving Christ
Re-entered to welcome him.
And the Blessed One remained, more fair,
More glorious than before,
And the heart of the aged monk was glad,
And his cell was dim no more.
"Draw nigh and abide with me, O Christ,
All through this day," is the prayer
Which sounds from my heart, and my lips repeat
Each morning, and Christ, the Fair,
Seems very near as his words I hear,
Though his form I do not see;
"When you care for the least of these, dear child,
You have done it unto me.
"With loving service fill all this day,
Do good in the name of your Lord,
And I will be near, your heart to cheer,
According to my word."
--William Norris Burr.