Poetry Archives

A Parable Of Jesus

The Twelve to Christ, their Master, cry’d,
“Increase our faith!”  The Lord reply’d,
If you had lively faith, indeed,
But as a grain of mustard-seed,
You might this sycomore command
To grow by sea and quit the land.
But whatsoe’er by faith is known,
Or done by works, is God’s alone.
For which of you shall have a hand,
That plows and fodders at command;
And to him thus anon shall say,
Loos’d from the labour of the day,
“Go, get thee in, and take thy mess”;
And shall not rather thus address,
“Make ready that on which I sup,
And gird thyself, and bring it up;
And when thou’st serv’d my bowl and meat,
Then likewise thou shalt drink and eat.”—
What are the Master’s thanks conferr’d
On him, who thus obey’d His word?
Not they, I trow—So likewise you,
That done you were enjoin’d to do,
Shall better with submission own
Before your Master’s aweful throne,
“Our duty is but barely paid,
And ’twas by force that we obey’d;
And all our services are vain
In which are neither grace nor gain.”