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METHOUGHT I came unto a world-wide plain Where souls stood thick as grain at harvest-tide, And many reapers, full of pious pride, With rapid scythe-sweeps mowed them down amain; And zealous binders bound them up like grain In sheaves: the reapers at each onward stride Trod many souls down. These the binders eyed With careless looks or glances of disdain. But, following slow, a patient Gleaner came And gathered all the Binders cast aside, And made fair sheaves thereof. Whereat I cried: “Why gather these? Who art thou? Name thy name!” The Gleaner in a sad, sweet voice replied: “The outcasts’ Saviour—for these, too, I died.” |