And how he bade the fairest robe Be brought; the golden ring; Shoes for the feet; and music sweet, As if to hail a king. “For this, my son,” said he, “was dead, And is alive; is found, Who was long lost: ’tis meet, therefore, That stintless joy abound!” “Oh, child of woe,” said Marien, “Look up, for thou art he; And round about the father’s throne Many rejoice for thee!” “Oh Lord, I bless thee,” said the youth, “That of thy mercy great, Thou hast vouchsafed to rescue me From my forlorn estate! And henceforth, to thy work of love Myself I dedicate! “The meanest of thy creatures, low I bend before thy throne, And offer my poor self to make Thy loving-kindness known! “Oh father, give me words of power, The stony hearts to move; Give me prevailing eloquence, To publish forth thy love! “Thy love which wearieth not; which like Thy sun, on all doth shine! Oh Father, let me worship Thee Through life, by gladly serving Thee! I love not life; I ask not wealth; My heart and soul, my youth and health, My life, oh Lord, are thine!” So spake the youth; but now the boat The glorious island neared, Which, like a cloudland realm of bliss, Above the sea appeared. Skyward rose sunny peaks, pale-hued As if of opal glow; And crested palms, broad-leaved and tall, In valleys grew below. A lovely land of flowers, as fair As Paradise, ere sin And sorrow, that corrupting pair, With death had entered in. A lovely land!--“And even now,” Cried Marien, “see they come, Children of love, my brother, now To bid thee welcome home! “For these, God kept thee in the wild, From sinful men apart! For these, his people, through distress Made pure thy trusting heart! “Thy work is here! Go forth, ’mid these Meek children of the sun, Oh servant of the Lord, and tell What He for thee hath done!” Down to the shore the thousands came, A joyous, peaceful host, To welcome Marien back, whom they Had sorrowed for as lost. “And welcome to thee, little child!” They sang forth sweet and clear; “And welcome to the stranger poor, Who cometh with thee here!” And then they brought him silken cloth, Since he was meanly dressed; And juicy, mellow fruits to eat, And perfumed waters for his feet, And mats whereon to rest. And ever as they served him, They sang forth sweet and low, “Would this repose might solace thee, These apples cure thy woe!” And though the twain knew not their speech Yet well they understood The looks of love that welcomed them, Their actions kind and good.