And the heart of the aged monk was glad,
And his cell was dim no more.
"Draw nigh and abide with me, O Christ,
All through this day," is the prayer
Which sounds from my heart, and my lips repeat
Each morning, and Christ, the Fair,
Seems very near as his words I hear,
Though his form I do not see;
"When you care for the least of these, dear child,
You have done it unto me.