Were a king to come to my lowly home, Or a prince or a duke or an earl, What a cleansing would furbish the whole of the house, Till it shone as pure as a pearl! How the best that I had, on the floor and the bed, On table and mantel and wall, Would gladly be lavished and eagerly spread, And I be ashamed of it all! Yet the Monarch of monarchs, the Only Supreme, The Lord whom the heavens obey, The Splendor that passes the height of a dream, Will visit my household to-day; And the shutters are closed, and the cobwebs are thick, And a hinge is off of the door, And I, in a garment of wretchedness clad, Am down in the dirt on the floor! |