Classic Poem

The Little Cherubs whispered,
" What strange new soul is this
Who cometh with a robe besmirched
Unto the Place of Bliss? "
The spake the Eldest Angel,
" The robe he wears is fair —
The groping fingers of the poor
Have held and blessed him there. "

The Little Cherubs whispered,
" Who comes to be our guest
With dust about his garments' hem
And stains upon his breast? "
Then spake the Eldest Angel,
" Most lovely is the stain —
The tears of those he comforted
Who may not weep again. "

The Little Cherubs whispered,
" What strange new soul is he
Who cometh with a burden here
And bears it tenderly? "
Then spake the Eldest Angel,
" He bears his life's award —
The burden of men's broken hearts
To place before the Lord. "

" The dust upon his garments' hem —
My lips shall bow to it;
The stains upon the breast of him
Are gems thrice exquisite.
O, little foolish Cherubs,
What truth is this ye miss,
There comes no saint to Paradise
Who cometh not like this! "