Now from the miser kinsman’s house
Came many a jovial sound;
And lavish heirs had spent his gold,
Ere twelve months had gone round.
That while within the busy town
Dwelt Marien; and each day,
In some good deed of Christian love
And mercy, passed away.
For many an abject dweller there,
Grief-bowed and labour-spent,
Groaned forth, amid his little ones,
To heaven his sad lament;
And unto such, to raise, to cheer,
The sent of God, she went.
But she who, even as they, was poor,
Failed not of daily bread;
A stranger, many took her in,
And warmed, and clothed, and fed.
And when a sickness sore befel,
And nigh to death she lay,
Kind hearts there were who came to her,
And watched her night and day.
And afterwards, when evil men
Doomed her in bonds to lie,
Many a true, noble friend arose,
Willing for her to die.
Oh, blessed Christian hearts, who thus
Unto this little one
Did deeds of love; for as to Christ
These righteous works were done!
And they who blessed her, for themselves
A tenfold blessing won!
Thus dwelt sweet Marien in the town
For many a passing year;
Yet of the poor, lost prodigal.
No tidings could she hear.
She found him not; but yet she found
Others who, even as he,
Had gone astray and pined forlorn
In hopeless misery.
To these repentant, outcast ones,
She spake kind words of grace,
And led them back, with yearning hearts
To seek the father’s face;
To find forgiveness in His heart,
And love in His embrace.
Oh blessed, blessed Marien!
--But let us now recall
Whate’er had happed of change and woe
Unto the prodigal.
He saw his little sister pine;
He saw her silent woe;
He saw her strength decline, yet still
Her weary labour grow.
As this he saw, yet more and more
He hated that hard man,
With whom their cheerless misery,
Their daily tasks began.
And even to true Marien,
He bare an altered mind;--
Alas, that injuries should make
Else loving hearts unkind!
But so it is! and when the twain
To cheer his spirit strove,
His wrath arose, and he repelled
Their patient deeds of love.
Then evil men assailed his youth;
And he who was so frail
In suffering, ’gainst the tempter’s might
Was feeble to prevail.
He was their easy prey; their tool;
And bravely clothed and fed,
In desperate scenes, ’mid desperate men,
A lawless life he led.
Yet often to his soul came back
Sweet memory of the time,
When he, a happy, thoughtless child,
Had knowledge of no crime.
And like a heavier, wearier woe,
Than labour night and day,
The consciousness of evil deeds
Upon his spirit lay.
He thought of slighted Marien,
And of the sister meek;
Of the thin hands that plied the loom,
And of the fading cheek;
Yet how he had deserted them,
The faithful and the weak!
He heard his loving parent’s voice
Reproach him in his sleep;
And conscience, that stern bosom-guest,
Ceaseless upbraidings keep.
Yet, for the hated kinsman’s sake,
Neither would he regard;
And, because man was hard to him,
Made his own nature hard.
Thus doing outrage to his soul,
By chance he went one day
Through the brown trodden churchyard, where
The little sister lay.
A sexton there at work he found;
And why he turned the mould
So carefully, he asked, since there
No name the tenant told.
Replied he, “in this wide church-yard
I know each separate mound;
Yet unto me that little grave
Alone seems holy ground.”
And then he told of Marien,
And how she there had wept
Over the child, that ’neath the mould,
In dreamless quiet slept.
“A little, friendless pauper child,
She lieth here,” said he;
“Yet not a grave in all the ground
Like this affecteth me!”
Saying this, he wiped a tear aside,
And turned from the place;
And, in the skirts of his rich robe,
The brother hid his face.
--He left the town; and in a ship,
Bound for a far-off strand,
He took his voyage; but distress
Pursued her from the land.
At first disease was ’mong her men;
And suffering long and sore,
In midst of joyless, suffering mates,
Forlorn and sad he bore.
Next mutiny brake forth; and then
That miserable ship,
As if there were no port for her,
Without a wind the sails to stir,
Lay moveless on the deep.
As Jonah, fleeing from the Lord,
The soul-struck penitent
Lay self-condemned, believing all
On his account were sent.
Anon a tempest rose, and drove
The ship before the gale,
For three long days; and bore away
Her rudder, mast, and sail.
On the fourth night dark land appeared,
And the strained vessel bore
Right on the rocky reef, and lay
A wreck upon the shore.
At day-break only he remained
To note the vessel’s fate:--
The Crusoe of a desert isle,
Abject and desolate.
--The world went on as it was wont
And in the city street,
And in the busy market-place,
Did thronging thousands meet.
Upon the hearths of poor men’s homes
Good neighbors met at night;
And kindness and companionship
Made woe and labour light.
The loneliest hut among the hills
To human hearts was known;
And even in kingly palaces
Men might not dwell alone.
The world went on as it was wont;
And no man knew the while
Of that poor lonely prodigal,
Upon his lonely isle.
He clomb the cliffs to look afar
Over the distant sea;
If, please God, for his rescuing
A coming sail might be.
He lit his beacon fires at night;
He hoisted signals high;--
But the world went on as it was wont,
And not a ship sailed by.
He was not missed among his kind,--
Man had forgot his name;
But unto Him who cares for all,
Who sees the little sparrow fall,
His lonely misery came.
God saw him; saw his broken heart,
His cheerless solitude,
Saw how his human pride was gone,
His human will subdued.
Saw him and loved him. Broken heart,
Look up! the Father’s voice
Calleth thee from thy depths of woe,
And biddeth thee rejoice!
--Now Marien from the trading town
Had voyaged; sent of Heaven
She knew not whither; and the ship,
Which with long storm had striven,
At length upon a glorious isle
Amid the seas was driven;
Where dwelt a gentle race at rest
Amid their flowery wilds,
Unknown to all the world, with hearts
As simple as a child’s.
With them abode sweet Marien:
But now it chanced one day,
As in a slender carved boat
Upon the shore she lay,
A strong wind came, and filled the sail,
And bare her thence away.
She had no fear, true Marien;--
That God was good, she knew,
And even then had sent her forth
Some work of love to do.
The prodigal upon his rock
Was kneeling, and his prayer
For confidence in heaven, arose
Upon the evening air,
Just as the little boat approached
The island bleak and bare.
The boat ran up a creek, as if,
’Twere steered by angels good;
And ere the evening prayer was done
Beside the youth she stood.
The chiefest joy it hath not words
Its deep excess to say;
And as if he had seen a sprite,
His spirit died away.
Then with clasped hands, and broken speech,
And tears that ceaseless flowed;
He poured forth from his full heart
A fervent praise of God.