The two men keep their paths apart;
But more and more begins to stoop
The man with gold, as droop and droop
Tall plants with something at their heart.
Now once again with eager zest
He offers gold with silent speech;
The other will not walk in reach,
But walks around, as round a pest.
His dark eyes sweep the scene around,
His young face drinks the fragrant air,
His dark eyes journey everywhere,—
The other's cleave unto the ground.
It is a weary walk for him,
For oh he bears a weary load!
He does not like that narrow road
Between the dead — it is so dim:
It is so dark, that narrow place,
Where graves lie thick, like yellow leaves:
Give us the light of Christ and grace,
Give light to garner in the sheaves.
Give light of love; for gold is cold,
And gold is cruel as a crime;
It gives no light at such sad time
As when man's feet wax weak and old.
Ay, gold is heavy, hard, and cold!
And have I said this thing before?
Well, I will tell it o'er and o'er,
‘ Twere need be told ten thousand fold.
“Give us this day our daily bread,” —
Get this of God, then all the rest
Is housed in thine own honest breast,
If you but lift a lordly head.