Classic Poem

I.

The whole world hath gone out to buy,
Estates and goods to multiply:
The sunny field, the garden ground,
The woods that gird the city round,
The cedar hall, the ample street,
The quay where busy merchants meet, —
All places and all spirits burn,
And for the world's weak treasure yearn.

II.

Servant of Christ! be thou like these,
All day and night forego thine ease:
Crave, covet, lust, and labor still,
Till thou the Master's storehouse fill.
Be crafty at thy toil, and ply
All seasons round thy usury.
Deny thyself, and hoard thy gold
For Him who died for thee of old.

III.

Let not thy life be soft and free,
Cushion and couch are not for thee.
Brave shining stone and raiment fair
Leave thou for kings and priests to wear.
For them let rich robes be unfurled
Who bear God's Name within the world.
Thy throne, O man of God, is yet
Behind thick clouds and trials set.

IV.

Let go all mortal grief and mirth;
And, as the world is wise for earth,
To thee like wisdom shall be given
To covet still and hoard for heaven.
Empty on priests, and heathen lands,
And widows pale, thy willing hands:
While prince and peer of old names dream,
Let alms thy sin-pledged soul redeem.

V.

Wide, Christian! is thy mother's field,
A hundredfold her valleys yield.
Hoard, and then waste: oh! scatter round
Thy seed in faith upon the ground.
When men are deep in feast and mirth,
Steal out and bury gold in earth,
Then back into the world and ply
Once more thy hard trade cheerily.