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Poem by Arthur William Symons
A beggar died last night; his soul Went up to God, and said: 'I come uncalled, forgive it, Lord; I died for want of bread.' Then answered him the Lord of heaven: 'Son, how can this thing be? Are not my saints on earth? and they Had surely succoured thee.' 'Thy saints, O Lord,' the beggar said, 'Live holy lives of prayer; How should they know of such as we? We perish unaware. 'They strive to save our wicked souls And fit them for the sky; Meanwhile, not having bread to eat, (Forgive!) our bodies die.' Then the Lord God spake out of heaven In wrath and angry pain: 'O men, for whom my Son hath died, My Son hath lived in vain!'
Arthur William Symons
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