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Show The Great Guest Comes jr Befcro tho cathedral In grandeur roso At Ingelburg whero tho Danube goes, Before Its forest of silver spires Went airily up to tho clouds and llres; lleforo tho oak had ready a beam, While yet tho nrch was stone "and dream Thoro whero tho nltnr was later laid, Conrad tho cobbler piled ins trado. Doubled nil day on his busy bench, Hard nt his cobbling for master and hench, Ho pounded away at tho brisk rat-tat, rat-tat, Shearing and shnping with pull nnd pat, Hldo well hammered hnd pegs sent home, Till tho shoo was lit for tho pope of Rome, And he sang ns the threads went to and fro; "Whether 'tis hidden or whether It show. Lot the work bo sound, for tho Lord wilt know." Tall was tho cobbler, and gray and thin, And a full moon shono wtiero tho hair had been, His oyes poorcd out Intent and afar, As looking beyond tho things that aro. Ho walked ns ono who is done with fear, Knowing nt last that God Is near. Only tho half of him cobbled the shoes; Tho rest was away for tho heavenly news. Indeed, so thin was tho mystic screen That parted tho Unseen from tho Seen, You could not toll from tho cobbler's themo If his drenm woro truth If nig truth j woro dream. It happened ono day at tho year's whlto end, Two neighbors cnlled on their old tlmo friend; And thoy found tho shop, so moagor and mean, Mado gay with a hundred boughs of greon. Conrad was stitching with face I a-shtno, But suddenly stoppod as he twitched I a twlno; "Old frlonds, good nows! At dawn today, As the cocks wero scaring tho night j away, The Lord appeared In a dream to mo. And said, I am coming your Guest to bo! I havo boon busy with foot Kstlr, Strowlng tho floor with branches of fir, The wall Is washed and the shelf Is shlned i j And over tho rafter tho holly twined He comes today and tho table Is spread With milk and honey and wbeatcn bread!" His friends went home, and his face grow still As ho watched for tho Bhadow across the sill, . . Ho lived all tho moments o'er and o'er T When tho Lord should enter the lowly low-ly door Tho knock, the call, tho latch pul.ed up The lighted face, tho offered cup. Ho would wnBh the feet whero tho spikes had been; Ho would kiss tho hands whero the nails went In; And then at tho last would sit with him And break the bread as tho day grow dim. While tho cobbler mused there passed bis pano A beggar, drenched by the driving rain, Ho called him in from the stormy street, And gave him shoes for his bruised feet, Tho beggar went on, and then came a crone, Her face with wrinkles of sorrow sown, A bundle of fagots bowed tier back. And she was spont with the wrench and rack. Ho gave her h loaf nnd steadied her load, As sho took her way on tho weary road, Then to his door canio a little child, Lost and afraid of the world so wild, In tho big dark world. Catching It up Ho gavo It tho milk In tho waiting cup. And led It home to Its mother's arms, Out of tho reach of the world's alarms. Tho day went down In tho crimson west And with It tho hope of tho blossod Guest. And Conrad sighed as th'o world turn-' cd gray: Why Is It, Lord, that your feet delay?" de-lay?" Then soft In tho sllenco a votco ho heard: "Lift up your heart, for I keep my word, Three times I camo to your friendly door, Throo times my shadow was on your floor. I was tho beggar with bruised feot; I was the woman you gavo to oat; I was tho child on tho homeless street." Edwin Markham. |
