Classic Poem

PARABLE XII.

The Householder and Husbandmen.

Attend to what I yet relate—
A certain man of an estate,
When he had plann'd and planted out
A vineyard, fenc'd it round about,
And made a wine-press on the spot,
And tow'r—and let it out by lot,
And in a foreign realm sojourn'd,
But when th'in-gathering time return'd,
He to the husbandmen deputes
His servants to receive the fruits.
But they those servants roughly treat,
And one they stone, and one they beat.
Then thinking he had sent too few,
He more dispatch'd, and them they slew
But last he bade his Son appear—
‘Him they will certainly revere.’
Whom when the husbandmen beheld,
They all united and rebell'd.
‘This is the heir, come, him destroy,
‘And we shall all th'estate enjoy.’
Then seizing him, they basely wound,
And slay, and cast from out the ground.
But when the Lord himself arrives,
What shall he do for all these lives?
They say, he surely will consume
Those wretches in a dreadful doom,
And let his vineyard out at last
To lab'rers of another cast,
Who shall restore the Lord his due
In season, and with rev'rence too.—
?By that fenc'd vineyard mention'd here
Let out to lab'rers by the year,
The Lord the Holy Land describes,
The husbandmen are all the tribes.
By the Lord's servants are inferr'd
The priests and prophets of the word,
Which still were sent from time to time
Upbraiding Israel with his crime,
That all his sons were gross ingrates,
Nor gave the praise, nor paid the rates,
Nor heeded fast or feast to keep,
Nor let the land in sabbath sleep.
These some were beat, and some were slain,
All made their embassy in vain—
The son commission'd in the end—
By him does Christ himself intend,
And prophecies of his decease—
O God, do thou our faith increase,
That we be worthy workmen found
To dress the vine and till the ground,
And yield thy fruits in season due,
Nor imitate th'apostate Jew;
And Zion's forfeit place retake,
Thro' Christ his aid, and for his sake.