Classic Poem

God said to the Puritan
As He stood on the bank of His river,
“I told you to swim to me:
You builded a bridge of stone
To bring back the Soul to the Giver.
Your timorous, dry-shod plan
Was well enough in its way,
But you wrestled and toiled alone,
And your work was heavier far,
And now you will have to stay
On the bank till you learn to play—
Old and stiff as you are.”

God said to the drowning Sinner,
“I told you to swim to me.
But you played and played in the stream,
And you stayed and stayed in the stream,
And you laughed at the ones who said
You might stay in the water too long.
And now you are cramped and cold,
And you will go down in the stream.
And then, fished out of the slime,
I must leave you to air and dry,
Wasting eternal time,
Hung on a thorn, to sigh
While measureless years go by.”

God called to the Swimmer-with-Glee,
God called to the Laden-and-Weary,
“Swim to me, swim to me!
Bring back the Gift to the Giver!
Dear,
I am a shady Tree
For those who rest from the River.”