'LORD, in Thy Courts Are seats so green bestow'd, As there resorts Along the dusty road A cavalcade,—King, Bishop, Knight, and Judge: And though I toil behind and meanly trudge, Let me, too, lie upon that pleasant sward, For I am weary, Lord. 'Christ, at Thy board Are wines and dishes drest That do afford Contentment to the best. And though with Poverty my bed hath been These many years, and my refreshment lean, With plenty now at last my soul acquaint, Dear Master, for I faint.' But through the grille, 'Where is thy Robe?' said He: 'Wouldst eat thy fill, Yet shirk civility?' 'My Robe, alas! There was a little child That shivered by the road———' Swiftly God smiled: 'I was that Child,' said He, and raised the pin; 'Dear friend, enter thou in!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG, FR. ARTAXERXES (OPERA) by THOMAS AUGUSTINE ARNE THE SPIRIT OF THE SABBATH by ISIDORE G. ASCHER THE DEATH OF HAMPDEN by PAKENHAM THOMAS BEATTY SONG OF THE COLONISTS DEPARTING FOR NEW ZEALAND by THOMAS CAMPBELL THE SUMMER STORM by ALICE CARY AN EPITAPH by GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY |