Classic Poem

A LEGEND

" M Y limbs wax strong, my thoughts expand, "
Said Christopher of old,
As he lay musing 'mid the hills,
His flock within the fold, —
" I fain would serve some mighty power,
The highest, if may be,
And change this dull and dreamy life
For one more wide and free. "

He girt his robe about his loins,
And wandered far away,
Until he reached a battle-ground,
That shuddered with the fray.
With stalwart strength, and dauntless heart,
He turned the tide of fight,
And snatched a wreath of victory
Ere waned the evening light

Then the exulting host bowed down
Before a gorgeous shrine,
And seemed to offer words of praise
Unto a power divine.
" A king divine? " said Christopher,
" Where does the monarch dwell? "
" Above, beyond us, " answered they,
" But where we cannot tell. "

Again he gathered up his robe,
And donned his sandal shoes,
Took staff in hand, and wandered forth,
Not knowing where to choose;
Until amid the lonesome wild
He met a hermit hoar,
Who lifted up his kindly eyes,
And scanned him o'er and o'er.

" Where may I find the king divine? "
Outspoke the pilgrim brave,
" I fain would serve him with my strength,
More truly than a slave. "
" His kingdom is not here, my son,
Albeit his cross I wear:
Wouldst win admission to his throne?
Lift up thy voice in prayer. "

" I cannot pray, thou reverent man,
I have not words enow,
But if brave deeds may aught avail,
These will I strive to do. "
" Behold yon torrent! " said the sage,
" That roars from hill to glen;
Wait on its banks, and watch for work;
Serve God by helping men. "

The pilgrim found a leafy tent
Beside that dangerous wave,
And daily sought, with earnest zeal,
To succour and to save;
And when he snatched some precious life
From that o'erwhelming stream,
His good, glad feelings found their way
Up to the great Supreme

One day there came a little child,
With soft and sunny hair,
With eyes that beamed serenely mild,
With face divinely fair;
And with a voice of winning power
The little stranger cried —
" Come help me, valiant Christopher,
Across this angry tide. "

He took the lovely infant up
Upon his shoulders broad,
With strange emotions in his soul,
That pleased, yet overawed;
But fiercer grew the torrent's force,
And heavier grew the child,
Who almost bowed the strong man down
Beneath those waters wild.

" O river! why dost rave the more
In absence of the storm?
And, child, what art thou that I bend
Beneath thy tiny form? "
" Press on, good servant as thou art,
Be faithful to thy word;
Thou bear'st the world's whole weight to-day,
For I am Christ, thy Lord "

" The stream is past, the danger o'er,
Blest be thy future powers!
Here plant thy staff. Behold how soon
It blossoms into flowers!
There let it stand and flourish long,
A symbol and a sign
Of thy unswerving faithfulness
Unto the King divine.

" Unsought, untaught of men, thy heart,
Moved by a hidden power,
Did scorn the specious things of earth
For Heaven's transcending dower
I give thee speech, that thou may'st teach
Hearts kindred to thy own;
Go forth, and bring repentant souls
Unto my Father's throne "

Prone on the earth, Saint Christopher
His trembling homage paid,
While on his head the holy child
A lasting blessing laid.
When he looked up, the vision fair
Had vanished from his eyes,
But an unwonted glory streamed
Along the wondering skies.