[Written for the Sentinel]

Immanuel

Yussuf Ben Orem sat one day
Within the gate where trade held sway,
And one, a merchant, came to him
And spake: "O Master, day grows dim;
Withdraw, I pray, with me apart,
Far from the buzz of babbling mart,
Where I may speak and thou may'st hear
Words only meant for thine own ear."

Yussuf Ben Orem led the way
Unto his house without delay.
"Here, friend, thou mayest speak, nor fear
Another than myself may hear.
Be seated, then, if that thou please,
And speak thy message at thine ease,
And for thy comfort here is wine.
Break silence, then; my ear is thine."

"Nay, not thine ear: I seek thy heart.
For this I led thee, fool, apart,
That, none to hear and none to stay,
I might thee quickly, surely slay!"
"Nay, friend, hast thou forgotten, then,
That God still rules the thoughts of men?
And God is here thy hand to stay?
Give up thy weapon; kneel and pray."

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