human
I'm Deacon Roland, called from earth afar, To join the saints; please set the gates ajar, That I may 'join the everlasting song,' And mingle ever with the ransomed throng. Then lo!
gpt
came Upon him, as he heard a voice exclaim:
human
Depart from me! you cannot enter here! I never knew you, for indeed, howe'er You may have wrought on earth, the sad, sad fact Remains, that life's sublimest, worthiest act-- The deacon woke to find it all a dream Just as the minister announced his theme:
gpt
My text, said he,
human
My child, 'tis late; Make haste and journey with me to my home; To guide you thither, I myself have come; And you shall have the food you asked in vain, For God himself hath made my duty plain; If he demand it, all I have is thine; Shrink not, but trust me; place thy hand in mine. And as they journeyed toward the deacon's home, The child related how he came to roam, Until the listening deacon understood The touching story of his orphanhood. Then, finding in the little waif a gem Worthy to deck the Saviour's diadem, He drew him to his loving breast, and said,
gpt
My child, you shall by me be clothed and fed; Nor shall you go from hence again to roam While God in love provides for us a home.