To each all render what is rightly his.
Thousands at noontide are climbing the hills under
Nain, like an army
Fleeing the carnage of war, seeking where it may
rest and take counsel;
Some with the blind or the palsied, some bearing
the sick on their shoulders,
Lagging but laboring hard, so they be not too far
from the Prophet;
Some bringing only a burden of deep and inveterate