“THE PENNY YE MEANT TO GI'E.”
There's a funny tale of a stingy man / Who was none too good, but might have been worse, / Who went to his church on a Sunday night, / And carried along his well-filled purse. When the sexton came with his begging-plate, / The church was but dim with the candles' light; / The stingy man fumbled all through his purse, / And chose a coin by touch—not sight. It's an odd thing now that guineas should be / So like unto pennies in shape and size. / “I'll give a penny,” the stingy man said; / “The poor must not gifts of pennies despise.” The penny fell down with a clatter and ring! / And back in his seat leaned the stingy man, / “The world is so full of the poor,” he thought, / “I can't help them all—I give what I can.” Ha, ha! how the sexton smiled, to be sure. / To see the gold guinea fall in his plate! / Ha, ha! how the stingy man's heart was wrung, / Perceiving his blunder, but just too late! “No matter,” he said; “in the Lord's account / That guinea of gold is set down to me, / They lend to him who give to the poor; / It will not be so bad an investment be.” “Na, na, mon,” the chuckling sexton cried out; / “The Lord is na cheated—he kens thee well; / He knew it was only by accident / That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell!” “He keeps an account, na doubt, for the puir; / But in that account He'll set down to thee / Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon, / Than the one bare penny ye meant to gi'e!” There's a comfort, too, in the little tale— / A serious side as well as a joke; / A comfort for all the generous poor, / In the comical words the sexton spoke. A comfort to think that the good Lord knows / How generous we really desire to be, / And will give us credit in his account / For all the pennies we long “to gi'e.” / —St. Nicholas.