At length, after long travel past,
She came as it grew late,
Along a beaten road, that led
To a vast city gate.
A vast and populous city, where
Rose dome, and tower, and spire,
And many a gilded pinnacle,
Far-seen, as the bright sunset fell,
Like glittering points of fire.
A city vast and populous,
Whose thronging multitude
Sent forth a sound afar-off heard,
Strong as the ocean-flood.
A strong, deep sound of many sounds,
Toil, pleasure, pain, delight,
And traffic, myriad-wheeled, whose din
Ceased not by day or night.
And through the city gate a throng
Passed ever, never spent;
A busy mingling human tide
Of those who came and went.
’Twas a proud city and a rich;
A city fair and old;
Filled with the world’s most costly things,--
Of precious stones and gold;
Of silks, fine woods, and spiceries;
And all that’s bought and sold.
Thither came homeless Marien,
Came there as it grew late,
Foot-sore and weary, friendless, poor,
Unto the city gate.
There found her a poor carpenter
Returning from his trade,
And he, with pitying countenance,
Her weary form surveyed.
“Come!” said he, “thou unto my house,
Shalt go: and of my bread,
And of my cup, thou shalt partake;
Shalt bide with me!” and as he spake
Her weary steps he led.
Unto an humble place that stood
’Mong dwellings of the poor
He brought her; bade her welcome thrice
Unto his lowly door.
The good-wife met her with like cheer,
“And though our fare is scant,
Fear not,” she said, “whilst we have food
It is not thou shall want!”
So dwelt she with this humble pair
In the great city, cherished so,
As parents cherish their first born;
Nor would they let her go.
Thus for a year she dwelt with them;
And that while their abode
Was blessed exceedingly; their store
Grew daily, weekly, more and more;
And peace so multiplied around,
The very hearth seemed holy ground,
As if once more on earth was found
The Paradise of God.
’Twas she that blessed the bread they ate,
’Twas she soothed all their cares;
They knew not that they entertained
An angel unawares.
With simple hearts that had no guile
They of the Saviour heard;
And, weeping tears of joyful faith,
Believed and blessed each word.
No more they marvelled how their board
With plenteous food was spread;
Five barley loaves dispensed by Christ
The famished thousands fed.
With love that would not be repressed,
Their kindling bosoms burned,
And ’mong their neighbours poor they went
To teach what they had learned.
To teach how Christ unto the poor,
The sinner vile, was sent;
How Mary washed his feet with tears,
And wiped them with her golden hairs,
A weeping penitent.
And how the sinful woman stood
Unjudged before his face;
How the poor prodigal sped back
Repentant to his place;
How to the thief upon the cross
He said, thou art forgiven,
And thou shalt be with me this day,
In the paradise of heaven.
So preached the carpenter; and men
Turned from their evil ways,
And Christian prayer was heard around,
And Christian hymns of praise.
Strange seemed these things; and to the rich,
And to the proud, ’twas told,
How many of the meaner sort
Lived like the saints of old.
How holy, blameless, were their lives;
And how poor craftsmen vile,
Amid their fellows, tool in hand,
The gospel preached the while.
’Twas told of Marien; how she came
A wanderer none knew whence;
Friendless and poor, of mind mature,
A Child in innocence;
As thus ’twas told, some blessed God,
But others took offence.
“Why,” said they, “should this simple child,
These men of low degree,
Thus preach and practise? what new faith
Is there, or need there be?
“Bishops have taught a thousand years,
And learned men are they;
These are mad doctrines, false, unfit,
Devised to lead astray.”
Therefore the simple people were
To a full synod brought,
To answer for their altered lives,
And for the faith they taught.
Much marvelled all those learned men
To see them fearless stand,
Calm, unabashed; with ready wit,
And language at command.
And to their taunt of low estate,
They answered, “let alone
All pride of rank; Christ chose the poor,
To make his gospel known.
“And what are we?--Immortal souls,
For whom Christ’s blood was shed;
Children of one great sire, with ye,
Co-heirs of Immortality;
Alike you both in birth and death;
Alone our lot so differeth,
As God shall judge the dead!”
Then were they questioned of old creeds,
By sophistries perplexed;
So that their artless lore might fail,
There simple souls be vexed.
But they were steadfast in the faith
As taught the holy book;
And thence it was adjudged a crime
Upon its page to look.
And the grave synod rose in wrath,
And they were judged blasphemers dire,
And doomed, their daring heresies
To expiate in fire.