Part 2 — ZACCHAEUS.
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To whom the heavy burden clings, It yet may serve him like a staff; One day the cross will break in wings, The sinner laugh a holy laugh.
The dwarfed Zacchaeus climbed a tree, His humble stature set him high; The Lord the little man did see Who sought the great man passing by.
Up to the tree he came, and stopped: "To-day," he said, "with thee I bide." A spirit-shaken fruit he dropped, Ripe for the Master, at his side.
Sure never host with gladder look A welcome guest home with him bore! Then rose the Satan of rebuke And loudly spake beside the door:
"This is no place for holy feet; Sinners should house and eat alone! This man sits in the stranger's seat And grinds the faces of his own!"
Outspoke the man, in Truth's own might: "Lord, half my goods I give the poor; If one I've taken more than right With four I make atonement sure!"
"Salvation here is entered in; This man indeed is Abraham's son!" Said he who came the lost to win— And saved the lost whom he had won.