"Then I did wait; and oft, at work, I sang, 'To minister! oh, joy, to minister!' And, it being known, a message came to me: 'Whether is best, thou forest-planter wise, To minister to others, or that they Should minister to thee?' Then, on my face Low lying, I made answer: 'It is best, Most High, to minister;' and thus came back The answer,--'Choose not for thyself the best: Go down, and, lo! my poor shall minister, Out of their poverty, to thee; shall learn Compassion by thy frailty; and shall oft Turn back, when speeding home from work, to help Thee, weak and crippled, home. My little ones, Thou shalt importune for their slender mite, And pray, and move them that they give it up For love of Me.'" The curate answered him, "Art thou content, O great one from afar! If I may ask, and not offend?" He said, "I am. Behold! I stand not all alone, That I should think to do a perfect work. I may not wish to give; for I have heard 'Tis best for me that I receive. For me, God is the only giver, and His gift Is one." With that, the little child sighed out, "O master! master! I am out of heaven Since noonday, and I hear them calling me. If you be ready, great one, let us go:-- Hark! hark! they call." Then did the beggar lift His face to heaven, and utter forth a cry As of the pangs of death, and every tree Moved as if shaken by a sudden wind. He cried again, and there came forth a hand From some invisible form, which, being laid A little moment on the curate's eyes, It dazzled him with light that brake from it, So that he saw no more. "What shall I do?" The curate murmured, when he came again To himself and looked about him. "This is strange! My thoughts are all astray; and yet, methinks, A weight is taken from my heart. Lo! lo! There lieth at my feet, frail, white, and dead, The sometime beggar. He is happy now. There was a child; but he is gone, and he Is also happy. I am glad to think I am not bound to make the wrong go right; But only to discover, and to do With cheerful heart, the work that God appoints." With that, he did compose, with reverent care, The dead; continuing, "I will trust in Him, THAT HE CAN HOLD HIS OWN; and I will take His will, above the work He sendeth me, To be my chiefest good." Then went he forth, "I shall die early," thinking: "I am warned, By this fair vision, that I have not long To live." Yet he lived on to good old age;-- Ay, he lives yet, and he is working still. * * * * *