The Lord He scanned His children,
His good, well-meaning children,
And He murmured as He saw them
Where they came and paused and passed;
“I will drag them I will drive them
Through the fourfold Hells of Torture,
And--I will test the product
That comes back to me at last.”
His children came--His children paused--
His children slowly passed Him--
And for the sweat upon the brow
And scar upon the cheek,
He heaped the burdens higher--
He cut and smote and lashed them--
And as they swayed and tottered
He hurled them spent and weak.
They cast an eye, a gleaming eye,
Above to where they sought Him--
But blank the empty skies gave back,
And blank the heavens stared.
And even they with riven heart,
Who strove to hide the hiding,
He drove the scalpel deeper,
That the inmost core lay bared.
At last He took the Test-Tubes
And the Acids of the Ages,
And he lit the Mighty Forges
With the Fires of the Years,
And He turned and smote and hammered,
And He poured and paused and pondered,
Till a clear precipitate formed ’neath
A residue of tears.
Across the outer spaces--
Beyond the last least sun-path,
He called them gently homeward
And He murmured as they passed,
“I have driven ye and dragged ye
Through the fourfold Hells of Torture,
And--I will keep the product
That comes back to me at last.”