| |
| “HADST thou stayed, I must have fled!” | |
| That is what the Vision said. | |
| |
| In his chamber all alone, | |
| Kneeling on the floor of stone, | |
| Prayed the Monk in deep contrition | 5 |
| For his sins of indecision, | |
| Prayed for greater self-denial | |
| In temptation and in trial; | |
| It was noonday by the dial, | |
| And the Monk was all alone. | 10 |
| |
| Suddenly, as if it lightened, | |
| An unwonted splendor brightened | |
| All within him and without him | |
| In that narrow cell of stone; | |
| And he saw the Blessed Vision | 15 |
| Of our Lord, with light Elysian | |
| Like a vesture wrapped about Him, | |
| Like a garment round Him thrown. | |
| |
| Not as crucified and slain, | |
| Not in agonies of pain, | 20 |
| Not with bleeding hands and feet, | |
| Did the Monk his Master see; | |
| But as in the village street, | |
| In the house or harvest-field, | |
| Halt and lame and blind He healed, | 25 |
| When He walked in Galilee. | |
| |
| In an attitude imploring, | |
| Hands upon his bosom crossed, | |
| Wondering, worshipping, adoring, | |
| Knelt the Monk in rapture lost. | 30 |
| Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, | |
| Who am I, that thus thou deignest | |
| To reveal thyself to me? | |
| Who am I, that from the centre | |
| Of thy glory thou shouldst enter | 35 |
| This poor cell, my guest to be? | |
| |
| Then amid his exaltation, | |
| Loud the convent bell appalling, | |
| From its belfry calling, calling, | |
| Rang through court and corridor | 40 |
| With persistent iteration | |
| He had never heard before. | |
| It was now the appointed hour | |
| When alike in shine or shower, | |
| Winter’s cold or summer’s heat, | 45 |
| To the convent portals came | |
| All the blind and halt and lame, | |
| All the beggars of the street, | |
| For their daily dole of food | |
| Delat them by the brotherhood; | 50 |
| And their almoner was he | |
| Who upon his bended knee, | |
| Rapt in silent ecstasy | |
| Of divinest self-surrender, | |
| Saw the Vision and the Splendor. | 55 |
| |
| Deep distress and hesitation | |
| Mingled with his adoration; | |
| Should he go or should he stay? | |
| Should he leave the poor to wait | |
| Hungry at the convent gate, | 60 |
| Till the Vision passed away? | |
| Should he slight his radiant guest, | |
| Slight this visitant celestial, | |
| For a crowd of ragged, bestial | |
| Beggars at the convent gate? | 65 |
| Would the Vision there remain? | |
| Would the Vision come again? | |
| Then a voice within his breast | |
| Whispered, audible and clear | |
| As if to the outward ear: | 70 |
| “Do thy duty; that is best; | |
| Leave unto thy Lord the rest!” | |
| |
| Straightway to his feet he started, | |
| And with longing look intent | |
| On the Blessed Vision bent, | 75 |
| Slowly from his cell departed, | |
| Slowly on his errand went. | |
| |
| At the gate the poor were waiting, | |
| Looking through the iron grating, | |
| With that terror in the eye | 80 |
| That is only seen in those | |
| Who amid their wants and woes | |
| Hear the sound of doors that close, | |
| And of feet that pass them by; | |
| Grown familiar with disfavor, | 85 |
| Grown familiar with the savor | |
| Of the bread by which men die! | |
| But to-day, they know not why, | |
| Like the gate of Paradise | |
| Seemed the convent gate to rise, | 90 |
| Like a sacrament divine | |
| Seemed to them the bread and wine. | |
| In his heart the Monk was praying, | |
| Thinking of the homeless poor, | |
| What they suffer and endure; | 95 |
| What we see not, what we see; | |
| And the inward voice was saying: | |
| “Whatsoever thing thou doest | |
| To the least of mine and lowest, | |
| That thou doest unto me!” | 100 |
| |
| Unto me! but had the Vision | |
| Come to him in beggar’s clothing, | |
| Come a mendicant imploring, | |
| Would he then have knelt adoring, | |
| Or have listened with derision, | 105 |
| And have turned away with loathing? | |
| |
| Thus his conscience put the question, | |
| Full of troublesome suggestion, | |
| As at length, with hurried pace, | |
| Towards his cell he turned his face, | 110 |
| And beheld the convent bright | |
| With a supernatural light, | |
| Like a luminous cloud expanding | |
| Over floor and wall and ceiling. | |
| |
| But he paused with awe-struck feeling | 115 |
| At the threshold of his door, | |
| For the Vision still was standing | |
| As he left it there before, | |
| When the convent bell appalling, | |
| From its belfry calling, calling, | 120 |
| Summoned him to feed the poor. | |
| Through the long hour intervening | |
| It had waited his return, | |
| And he felt his bosom burn, | |
| Comprehending all the meaning, | 125 |
| When the Blessed Vision said, | |
| “Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled!” | |
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