BY THEIR WORKS
Call him not heretic whose works attest
His faith in goodness by no creed confessed.
Whatever in love’s name is truly done
To free the bound and lift the fallen one
Is done to Christ.
Whoso in deed and word
Is not against Him
Labors for our Lord.
When He, who, sad and weary, longing sore
For love’s sweet service, sought the sisters’ door,
One saw the heavenly, one the human guest,
But who shall say which loved the Master best?
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And in the memory of everybody’s dear lost more or less recently, a short excerpt from the well-known poem Snow-Bound by the same author:
We tread the paths their feet have worn,
We sit beneath their orchard trees,
We hear, like them, the hum of bees
And rustle of the bladed corn;
We turn the pages that they read,
Their written words we linger o’er,
But in the sun they cast no shade,
No voice is heard, no sign is made,
No step is on the conscious floor!
Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust,
(Since He who knows our need is just,)
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.