Not less than Martha,
Mary served her Lord,
Although she but sat worshipping,
While Martha spread the board.
They also minister to Christ,
And render noblest duty,
Whose sweet hands touch life's common rounds
To Fragrance and to Beauty.
WHITE BROTHER
Midway between the flaming lines he lay,
A tumbled heap of blood, and sweat, and clay;
—God's son!
And none could succour him. First this one tried,
Then that … and then another … and they died;
—God's sons!
Those others saw his plight, and laughed and jeered,
And, at each helper's fall, laughed more, and cheered;
—God's sons?
So, through the torture of an endless day,
In agonies that none could ease, he lay;
—God's son!
Then, as he wrestled for each hard-won breath,
Bleeding his life out, craving only death;—
—God's son!
—Came One in white, athwart the fiery hail,
And in His hand, a shining cup—The Grail;
—God's Son!
He knelt beside him on the reeking ground,
And with a touch soothed each hot-throbbing wound;
—God's Son!