And yet he taller stood with morn;
His bright eyes, brighter than before,
Burned fast against that fastened door,
His proud lips lifting up with scorn,—
With lofty, silent scorn for one
Who all night long had plead and plead,
With none to witness but the dead
How he for gold must be undone.
Oh, ye who feed a greed for gold,
And barter truth, and trade sweet youth
For cold hard gold, behold, behold!
Behold this man! behold this truth!
Why, what is there in all God’s plan
Of vast creation, high or low,
By sea or land, by sun or snow,
So mean, so miserly as man?
Lo, earth and heaven all let go
Their garnered riches, year by year!
The treasures of the trackless snow,
Ah, hast thou seen how very dear?
The wide earth gives, gives golden grain,
Gives fruits of gold, gives all, gives all!
Hold forth your hand, and these shall fall
In your full palm as free as rain.
Yea, earth is generous. The trees
Strip nude as birth-time without fear,
And their reward is year by year
To feel their fulness but increase.
The law of Nature is to give,
To give, to give! and to rejoice
In giving with a generous voice,
And so trust God and truly live.
But see this miser at the last,—
This man who loves, grasps hold of gold,
Who grasps it with such eager hold,
To hold forever hard and fast:
As if to hold what God lets go;
As if to hold, while all around
Lets go, and drops upon the ground
All things as generous as snow.