The Monk Was Praying In His Cell, With Bowed Head Praying Sore; He Had Been Praying On His Knees For Two Long Hours And More. As Of Themselves, All Suddenly, His Eyelids Opened Wide; Before Him On The Ground He Saw A Man'S Feet Close Beside; And Almost To The Feet Came Down A Garment Wove Throughout; Such Garment He Had Never Seen In Countries Round About! His Eyes He Lifted Tremblingly Until A Hand They Spied: A Chisel-Scar On It He Saw, And A Deep, Torn Scar Beside. His Eyes They Leaped Up To The Face, His Heart Gave One Wild Bound, Then Stood As If Its Work Were Done-- The Master He Had Found! With Sudden Clang The Convent Bell Told Him The Poor Did Wait His Hand To Give The Daily Bread Doled At The Convent-Gate. Then Love Rose In Him Passionate, And With Duty Wrestled Strong; And The Bell Kept Calling All The Time With Merciless Iron Tongue. The Master Stood And Looked At Him He Rose Up With A Sigh: "He Will Be Gone When I Come Back I Go To Him By And By!" He Chid His Heart, He Fed The Poor All At The Convent-Gate; Then With Slow-Dragging Feet Went Back To His Cell So Desolate: His Heart Bereaved By Duty Done, He Had Sore Need Of Prayer! Oh, Sad He Lifted The Latch!--And, Lo, The Master Standing There! He Said, "My Poor Had Not To Stand Wearily At Thy Gate: For Him Who Feeds The Shepherd'S Sheep The Shepherd Will Stand And Wait." Yet, Lord--For Thou Would'St Have Us Judge, And I Will Humbly Dare-- If He Had Staid, I Do Not Think Thou Wouldst Have Left Him There. Thy Voice In Far-Off Time I Hear, With Sweet Defending, Say: "The Poor Ye Always Have With You, Me Ye Have Not Alway!" Thou Wouldst Have Said: "Go Feed My Poor, The Deed Thou Shalt Not Rue; Wherever Ye Do My Father'S Will I Always Am With You."