INASMUCH.
“IF I had dwelt”—so mused a tender woman,
All fine emotions stirred
Through pondering o’er that Life, divine yet human,
Told in the sacred Word—
“If I had dwelt of old, a Jewish maiden,
In some Judean street,
Where Jesus walked, and heard his word so laden
With comfort strangely sweet,
“And seen the face where utmost pity blended,
With each rebuke of wrong;
I would have left my lattice and descended,
And followed with the throng.
“If I had been the daughter, jewel-girdled,
Of some rich rabbi there;
Seeing the sick, blind, halt, my blood had curdled
At the sight of such despair.
“And I had wrenched the sapphires from my fillet,
Nor let one spark remain;
Snatched up my gold, amid the crowd to spill it,
For pity of their pain.
“I would have let the palsied fingers hold me;
I would have walked between
The Marys and Salome, while they told me
About the Magdalene.
“‘Foxes have holes’—I think my heart had broken
To hear the words so said,
While Christ had not—were sadder ever spoken?—
‘A place to lay his head.’
“I would have flung abroad my doors before Him,
And in my joy have been
First on the threshold, eager to adore Him,
And crave his entrance in!”
Ah, would you so? Without a recognition
You passed Him yesterday;
Jostled aside, unhelped his mute petition,
And calmly went your way.
With warmth and comfort garmented and girdled,
Before your window-sill
Sweep heart-sick crowds; and if your blood is curdled
You wear your jewels still.
You catch aside your robes, lest want should clutch them
In its imploring wild;
Or else some woful penitent might touch them,
And you be thus defiled.
O, dreamers! dreaming that your faith is keeping
All service free from blot,
Christ daily walks your streets, sick, suffering, weeping,
And ye perceive him not!
M. J. Preston, in The Independent.
I READ of a boy who had a remarkable dream. He thought that the richest man in town came to him and said: “I am tired of my house and grounds; come and take care of them and I will give them to you.” Then came an honored judge and said: “I want you to take my place; I am weary of being in court day after day; I will give you my seat on the bench if you will do my work.”
Then the doctor proposed that he take his extensive practice and let him rest, and so on. At last up shambled old Tommy, and said: “I’m wanted to fill a drunkard’s grave; I have come to see if you will take my place in these saloons and on these streets?”
Harold laughed about his dream, but somebody who knew how Harold was being brought up, said: “Do you know, I shouldn’t be surprised if of all the offers he accepted the last? He has talent enough to become a judge, or a physician, or to make his fortune, but I am afraid he will grow up to take old Tommy’s place.”
Who is willing to help fill “Old Tommy’s” place?