Year: 1871

u Hadst thou stayed, l must have Aed !"


That Is what tho Vision said.


In his chama,cr all alone,


KneClinE nn tho floor of stone:


41nyed the Monk In deep contrition


FOR his sins OF indecision,


Prayed for greater sclf.drnial,


In temptation and in trial;


1t was MONDAY by tho dial,


And the Monk was all alone,


Suddenly, ~ If it Mghtened,


An unwontcd eplendor frightened


All within him and without him


In that narrow cell Of stone:


And he saw tho Blessed Vision


Of our Lord, with light Elysian,


Like vesture wrapped about him,


Like garment round him thrown.


Not as crrhihed and slain,


Not in agonies of pain,


Not with bleeding bands and feet,


Did tho Monk his Master see;


But as In The village street,


In tho house or harvest field,


Halt and lame and blind he healed,


When he walked in Galilee.


In an altitude iMraor4nS,


Hands upon his bosom crossed,


Wondering, worshipping. sdoring,


knclt the Monk in rapture lost.


Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest,


Who am l, that thus thou deignest


To reveal thyself to me?


Who am l, that from tho centre


OF the glory, thou shoildst enter


This poor cell, my guest to bo?


Then amid his exaltatioD,


Loud the convent bell appalling,


From its belfry calling, calling,
Rang through court and corridor,
With persistent iteration


He had never heard before.
It was now the appointed hour
When alike, in shine or shower,
Winters cold, or summers heat,
To the convent portals came
All the blind and halt and lame,
All tho begXars Of the street,
For their daily dole Of food
Dealt them by the brotherhood;
And their almOner was he,
Who upon his bended knec,
Wrapp'd in silent ecstacy
OF diVinest self-surrendcr,
Saw the Vision and the Splendor.
Deep distress and hesitation
Mingled with his alteration;
Should he go, or should he stay?
Should he leave the poor to wait
Hungry at the convent gate,
Till the Vision passed away?
Should he slight his heavenly guest,
Slight his visitant celestial,
For q crowd Of ragged, bestial
ucgEars at the convent gate?
Would the Vision there remain?
Would the Vision como again?
Then voice within his breast
whispered, audibly and clear,
AS if to the outward ear:
Do thy duty: that IL best;
Leave unto tho Lord the rest! J"
Straightway to his feet he started,
And with longing look intent
On the Blessed Vision bent,
Slowly from his cell departed,
Slowly on his errand went.
At the gate tho poor were waiting,
Looking through the iron grating,
With that terror 10 tho eye
That is only seen in those
Who, an id their wants and woes,
Hear the sound Of doors that close,
And of feet that pass them by;
Grown familiar with disfavor,
Grown familiar with tho SAVIOR
OF tho bread by which men die!
But to-day, they know not why,
Like the gate of Paradise
Seemed the convent gate to rise,
Like u sacrament divine,
Seemed to them the bread aud wine.
In his heart the Monk was praying,
Thinking of tho homeless poor,
What they suffer and endure;
What we see not, what We see;
And the inward voice was saying:
Whatsoever thing thou doest
To the least of mine and lowest,
That thou doest unto mel"
Unto me but had the Vision
Come to him in beggar's clothing,
Come mendicant irnploring,
Would he then hive knelt adoring,
Or have listened with derision,
And have turned away with loathing?
Thus his conscience put the question,
Full of troublesome suggestion,
As at length, with hurried pace,
Towards his cell he turned his face,
And beheld the convent bright
With supernatural light,
Like u luminous cloud expanding
Over floor and wall and ceiling.
But he paused with awe-struck feeling
At the tbreshhold Of his door,
For the Vision still was standing
As he left it there before,
When the convent bell appalling,
From its belfry calling, calling,
him to feed the poor.
the long hour intervening
1t had waited his return,
And he felt his bosom burn,
Colnprehending al the meaning,
When the Blessed Vision said,
Hadst thou stayed, must have hed?"


Atlantic Monthly for December.