And the Thorn-crowned and Patient One
Replied, '_They thronged Me too. I too have seen_.'

'But, Lord, Thy other children go at will,'
I said, protesting still.
'They go, unheeding. But these sick and sad,
These blind and orphan, yea and those that sin
Drag at my heart. For them I serve and groan.
Why is it? Let me rest, Lord. I _have_ tried--'

He turned and looked at me:
'_But I have died_!'

'But, Lord, this ceaseless travail of my soul!
This stress! This often fruitless toil
These souls to win!
They are not mine. I brought not forth this host
Of needy creatures, struggling, tempest-tossed--
They are not _mine_.'

He looked at them--the look of One divine;
He turned and looked at me. '_But they are mine_!'

'O God, I said, 'I understand at last.
Forgive! And henceforth I will bond-slave be
To thy least, weakest, vilest ones;
I would not more be free.'

He smiled and said,
'_It is to me_.'"[72]