Part 27 (1/2)

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest oodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever

THE HIDDEN SERVANTS[1]

[1] Adapted, with quotations, from the poem in The Hidden Servants, by Francesca Alexander (Little, Brown & Co)

This is a legend about a herh up on the mountain-side in a tiny cave; his food was roots and acorns, a bit of bread given by a peasant, or a cheese brought by a wo about God For forty years he lived so, preaching to the people, praying for the the in his heart

There was just one thing he cared about: it was to make his soul so pure and perfect that it could be one of the stones in God's great Temple of Heaven

One day, after the forty years, he had a great longing to kno far along he had got with his work,--how it looked to the Heavenly Father

And he prayed that he race had grown To the selfsame measure as his own; Whose treasure on the celestial shore Could neither be less than his nor more”

As he looked up froel stood in the path before hiladness, for he knew that his as answered ”Go to the nearest town,” the angel said, ”and there, in the public square, you will find a h for rown to the selfsame stature as your own; his treasure on the celestial shore is neither less than yours nor ht, the herreat sorrow and fear Had his forty years of prayer been a terriblein the market-place? He knew not what to think Almost he hoped he should not find the el vision But when he cae, and the square, alas! there was the clown, doing his silly tricks for the crowd

The hermit stood and looked at hi at his own soul The face he saas thin and tired, and though it kept a srin for the people, it seemed very sad to the hero on with his tricks And when he had stopped and the crowd had left, the hermit went and drew the man aside to a place where they could rest; for he wantedelse on earth to knohat the man's soul was like, because what it was, his was

So, after a little, he asked the clown, very gently, what his life hat it had been And the clown answered, very sadly, that it was just as it looked,--a life of foolish tricks, for that was the only way of earning his bread that he knew

”But have you never been anything different?” asked the hermit, painfully

The clown's head sank in his hands ”Yes, holy father,” he said, ”I have been soed to the wickedest band of mountain robbers that ever tormented the land, and I was as wicked as the worst”

Alas! The her Was this how he looked to the Heavenly Father,--like a thief, a cruel mountain robber?

He could hardly speak, and the tears streath to ask oneyou,” he said, ”if you have ever done a single good deed in your life, reht that even one good deed would save him from utter despair

”Yes, one,” the clown said, ”but it was so s; my life has been worthless”

”Tell me that one!” pleaded the hermit

”Once,” said the arden and stole away one of the nuns, to sell as a slave or to keep for a ranso way to our ht The poor thing prayed to us so piteously to let her go! And as she begged, she looked fro eyes, as if she could not believe men could be really bad Father, when her eyespierced my heart! Pity and shame leaped up, for the first time, within me But I made my face as hard and cruel as the rest, and she turned away, hopeless

”When all was dark and still, I stole like a cat to where she lay bound I put my hand on her wrist and whispered, 'Trust me, and I will take you safely home' I cut her bonds with my knife, and she looked at me to show that she trusted Father, by terrible ways that I knew, hidden froate She knocked; they opened; and she slipped inside And, as she left me, she turned and said, 'God will reo back to the old bad life, and I had never learned an honest way to earn my bread So I became a clown, and must be a clown until I die”