"Lo, I am with you alway"

RITA BERMAN

To-day , while reading in the book of Luke,
I came upon the story where 't is told
How Jesus, entering into Simon's house,
Found there a woman sick with fever sore;
How he stood over her, rebuking it,
So that she thereupon did straightway rise
And—oh, assuredly with eager love—
She ministered to them.

And as I pondered over this sweet tale,
Reliving in my heart that woman's joy,
And followed her about the little home
Where she performed the humble housewife's tasks
Of service for the gentle Master's weal,
There came the sudden question, What if now
A quiet knock were heard at your own door,
And rising up to answer you should see
Jesus awaiting there?

Glad tears suffused my eyes at the mere thought,
Humility that spoke, Lord, who am I
That thou should'st bless my threshold with thy grace?
Nathless, I ran to see the room was clear,
The linen white, the platter spotless too,
The food all pure, the children with clean hands;
Then turned to bid him come and sup with us.
Alas, bright vision of my hungry heart,
Fond, idle dream,—naught's there!