O rich man, from your happy door,
Seeing the old, the sick, the poor.
Who ask for nothing, scarcely weep.
To whom even heaven means only sleep;
While you, given good things without measure,
Sometimes can hardly sleep for pleasure;
⁠Let not the blessed moment fly:
⁠Jesus of Nazareth passes by.

Is there a sinner, tired of sin,
Longing a new life to begin?
But all the gates of help are shut,
And all the words of love are mute;
Earth's best joys sere, like burnt- up grass,
And even the very heavens as brass;
⁠Turn not away so pitilessly —
⁠Jesus of Nazareth passes by.

Self-hardened man, of smooth, bland smile;
Woman, with heart like desert isle
Set in the sea of household love.
Whom nothing save "the world" can move;
At your white lie, your sneering speech.
Your backward thrust no sword can reach.
⁠Look, your child lifts a wondering eye —
⁠Jesus of Nazareth passes by.
 
Oh, all ye foolish ones, who feel
A sudden doubt, like piercing steel.
When your dead hearts within you burn.
And conscience sighs, "Return, return."
Why let ye the sweet impulse fleet,
Love's wave wash back from your tired feet —
⁠Knowing not Him who came so nigh —
⁠Jesus of Nazareth passing by?

He must not pass! Hold Him secure;
In likeness of His helpless poor;
Of many a sick soul, sin-beguiled;
In innocent face of little child;
Clasp Him — quite certain it is He —
In every form of misery;
⁠And when thou meet'st Him up on high.
⁠Be sure He will not pass thee by.

When, after blissful hours of converse free
⁠With some rich mind, whose every word can make
⁠Transfiguration of our thoughts, and wake
Our utmost powers, until we seem to be
New born, — we sink to barren poverty
⁠Again with common souls, will memory take
⁠The shape of joy or woe? of joy for sake
Of joy once known? or piteous misery
⁠Of yearning that it come again?
⁠I think
If unto Lazarus it had been said.
Some day, "Come in! eat once thy fill of bread
⁠And meat, and of rich wine, the best wine, drink
Likewise thy fill," the beggar had replied,
"Nay, Master! It were harder then outside!"

Oh Love, that came to me on lightest wing
One dawning morning of the dewy spring,
When the year's earliest lark awoke to sing:

Oh Love, that swept aside, as if in jest,
The old companions I had cared for best,
Through all the days of my unbroken rest:

Oh Love, that took from me the mantle grey.
Which gentle peace had round me wrapped alway.
And bade contentment leave my onward way:

Oh Love, that decked me in the loveliness
Of an intense ethereal happiness.
And bade it henceforth be my daily dress:

Oh Love, that sent through all my tingling frame
A glowing warmth I knew not how to name.
Which burnt upon my cheek in crimson flame:

Oh Love, my strong and overflowing heart.
Which bore throughout that day so proud a part.
Believed how beautiful a thing thou art.

Oh Love, that left me on a wintry day.
When earth in an enshrouding whiteness lay.
And all the sunless face of Heaven was grey:

Oh Love, that snatched from me my glorious dress.
Nor cared that in my naked loneliness
I found no refuge from my deep distress:

Oh Love, that looked upon me standing there,
My hopes as grey, and all my life as bare
As sky and earth, above, around me were:

Oh Love, that flying never turned thy head,
Nor marked one tear of all the many shed
For the departed, for contentment dead:

Oh Love, that found me peacefully secure.
That gave me riches which might not endure,
And left me so immeasurably poor:

Oh Love, my feeble and all empty heart.
Which bore throughout that day so sad a part,
Knows what an awful thing thou wert and art.