  ‘For the kingdom of Heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing in the market-place, and said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you; and they went their way. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them. Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right that shall ye receive.’—St. Matthew: XX, 1-7. O thou blest Householder! the starry dawn, The light crepuscular, the roseate morn, Long since had melted into day! Long since the glow of Youth’s THIRD hour, And the bird’s song, and Fancy’s magic power, Long since have, traceless, pass’d away! Ent’reth the sun into its zenith height! Ent’reth the mortal into manhood’s might! Op’neth again the vineyard Gate And Labourers are call’d! but Honour’s dream Entranc’d my soul, and made Religion seem As nought, Glory was man’s Estate! The NINTH hour found me in the market place; Fierce passion ruled my heart, care mark’d my face; In vain, in vain, Thy blessed call! To glitter, to achieve, to lose or gain, Form’d every hope, or thought, delight, or pain: The world, the world, was still my All! The TENTH hour sounded in my startled ear! Thy gracious Spirit touched my heart with fear! The harvest ended with the day; That thought imbued my mind—‘not saved? too late?’ I left the throng; I sought the Vineyard Gate; ’Twas shut— Death-struck, I turn’d away! Low sank the Sun adown the Western Sky! Each cherish’d hope had prov’d its vanity! Now neither Earth, nor Heaven was mine. Rejected, sad, abandon’d, and forlorn; Of God it seem’d not lov’d; of Hell, the scorn! No hope, or human or Divine, Brighten’d my dark, cold, doubting, wretched mind; The world, a wilderness; Heaven’s self, unkind! ‘Blackness of darkness’ seem’d my way: Slow struck the ELEVENTH! Thy light around me broke! And deep, unto my soul, these words were spoke: ‘Why stand ye idle all the day?’ ‘Enter and work through the waning hour!’— Lord of the Vineyard! grant Thy servant power To labour, love Thee, and obey. Let every thought, plan, word, deed, wish, be Thine! Thine be all honour, glory, praise divine, And let thy pardon close my day! |
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