Once, at the self-same point of time, Two mortals passed from earth: One was a King of caste sublime, But base the other's birth; And each had led a stainless life Amid this sinful planet's strife. Upward the spirits took their flight Enfranchised and elate, Till soon they reached the realms of light And paused at Eden's gate, Where, waiting them, with joy they see The Fisherman of Galilee. He oped the Gate, one lustrous stone, And ushered in the King, While the poor peasant, left alone, Heard songs of welcoming And strains of harps, divinely sweet, Poured forth the Royal Guest to greet. The music ceased, the Heavenly Guide Flung back the Gate again And bade the peasant at his side Join the seraphic train; But, strange to say, no Angels sang, No harps through Heaven symphonious rang "O Saint revered!" the peasant cried, "Why chant no choirs for me As for yon Monarch in his pride? Am I less dear than he? Can aught but equity have birth Here, in high Heaven, as on the earth?" "My Son," the Saint replied, "thou art As dear as kingly clay; But men like thee, of lowly heart, Come hither every day— While Dives at the Gate appears Once only in a hundred years!" |