THE PILGRIM

I heard a pilgrim near a temple gate

Praying, "I have no fear, for Thou art Fate.

"Morn, eve, noon, if I look up to Thee,

Wilt Thou at night look down, remembering me?

"Nay, then, my sins so great, my service small,"—

So prayed he at the gate,—"forget them all.

"Of claims and rights a load the while I keep,

How in Thy nights, O God, to smile and sleep?

"Pardon, neglect, or slay, as is most meet;

My beaten face I lay beneath Thy feet."

"Pilgrim," I said, "hath He, who toils the while,

Bade thee, of burdens free, to sleep and smile?

"Who built the hills on high, and laid the sea,

Set in thy heart the cry, 'Remember me!'"