p. 3 | BEGGARS | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Aug 30, 1905

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 31, No. 35.

BEGGARS.

(Re-published from issue of November 20, 1901.) [See Matt. 20: 30-34.]

ONLY two beggars, that is all, Poor and blind, by the ruined wall; Thus to live and thus to die, Asking an alms of the passers-by;

Earthly dole for their hungry moan, Bits of bread or a half-picked bone, The smallest coins that men can give Strained through a fine-meshed conscience sieve;

Given to ease a conscience smart; Given to soothe a pricking heart, That's taken more than a righteous part In the buy and sell of earthly mart;

That hopes to save a stingy soul By giving alms, a meager dole; That hoards in pounds the gifts of God, That gives in pence that men may laud; That worships at the shrine of Greed, That careth naught of the beggar's need.

How will such fare when, by and by, They stand before the Judge on high?

Only two beggars, that is all, Limned against the broken wall; Sitting beside the great highway, Begging a pittance day by day; Pitied and helped by the needy poor, Hated and shunned by the wealthy boor.

And yet God's poor, these destitute, With blinded eyes or voices mute, With deafened ears or crippled frame— Their utter need pleads in His name.

"Not pleasing?"—Surely not. To grace with silks the form, to adorn the face. Dire poverty hath no meats to spare; 'Tis daily dole for the daily fare. Ragged, dirty, and ugly withal, These beggars twain by the broken wall.

Yet who notes what pain the soul passed through Ere he came to beg? How oft the clue Was almost within his eager grasp, But lost to sight ere the hand could clasp! And o'er and o'er and o'er again, Up hill and down, through bog and fen, In the murky air of a starless night, In the day's full glare by foes affright, He strove and journeyed, fought and fell,— O, we could not the full tale tell Of the man who failed and lost his all Who now is the beggar by the wall, Or a mendicant by Dives' gate; But place him with the rich and great, Clothe in royal robes the dole-fed man, And, lo, there is lifted all the ban. Men cringe and bow the supple knee To him they refused small charity.

'Tis place and dress that make the man, Or place him under the proud world's ban.

Only two beggars, that is all, Poor and blind by the city's wall, Called all day in the long ago By the road that ran through Jericho; Called for alms from the passers-by Called with insistent, clamorous cry, When the sounds of gathering throngs they hear Drawing the city's gates anear. They ask the tumult; they get reply, "Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."

They've heard the fame of His wondrous love Of the light and life brought from above; And from out the dark of a blinded night, They plead that His power may give them sight. O, He came, He died, to save the lost; The awful Need made the fearful Cost. And His ear ne'er dulled to faintest cry, His heart e'er touched by the soul's faint sigh, His hand that hurled forth spheres above, Filled with life of an infinite love, Touched the sightless eyes with tender grace, And bathed the soul in light of His face. And He changed the beggar by the way From a child of night to a son of day, And lighted the darkened soul of strife With the light of love, the gift of life.

O, we are mendicants, one and all, As beggars blind by the ancient wall; Are poor, whatever of coin we claim; Are wretched, whate'er may be our fame; Are ragged, whate'er may be our dress, Garbed in the rags of our righteousness; Are blind, whatever we claim to see; Are nothing, whatever we claim to be. Aye, all that we need, we lack it all Truly as the beggars by the wall. But all that we need in Him we find, For the weary, rest; sight for the blind; To the poorest soul He granteth wealth; To the sickest soul He giveth health; From beggared soul takes its own mean dress, And clothes it in robes of righteousness.

By character God measures men, By character He will judge them when They stand before His judgment bar, Not what they think, but what they are.

Then Dives, who lived on sumptuous fare Who worshiped himself in praise and prayer, Who to the glories of truth was blind, Will be left to self with all its kind, Will be left to feed on self's poor store, With self shall perish forevermore.

But he who suffered affliction's fire Shall hear the voice, "O friend, come higher;" From his beggar's bed at Dives' gate He'll reign in realms of a new estate; He trusted God in his direst need, And shall of His choicest viands feed, Shall sit with Christ upon His throne, No more to utter the beggar's moan; For the poor who enter heaven's door, Who have begged of God, shall beg no more.