Chapter XLI: The Sacred Guest

When from the branches’ leafy screen
Zaccheus on his Master gazed,
What must his glad surprise have been
When the Lord’s eye to him was raised!
Christ singled out that one frail man
From all the throng that round Him pressed,
And to the slighted publican
These gracious words the Lord addressed.

“Make haste, descend, this day will I
With thee abide.” Zaccheus heard,
Received his Master joyfully,
And reaped the blessing of that word:
“This day salvation to this home
Is come,” thus Christ the blessing gave;
“For lo! the Son of man is come
That which was lost to seek and save!”

Mortal, on earth though low-esteemed,
Thou, like the publican, mayst be;
The eye that on Zaccheus beamed
May now be, _is_ now fixed on thee.
From Him retirement is no screen,
Thy insignificance no shroud;
And still all cold as thou hast been
To thee the Saviour speaks aloud.

“Lo! at the door I stand and knock,
If any open unto Me,
The portals of his heart unlock,
I, even I, his Guest will be.”
Oh! can that sacred Guest in vain
Crave entrance to a sinner’s heart;
Can pride itself unmoved remain,
Or madness pray Him to depart?

No; sure with grateful joy alone
Thou wilt thy Lord and Saviour meet,
Within thy heart prepare His throne,
And pour thy treasures at His feet!
For think not Christ thy Guest can be
Unless thy works His presence prove,
As in Zaccheus, God in thee
See acts of justice, deeds of love.

Pure is the heart if God be there,
That shrine no second lord receives;
Christ suffers not His “house of prayer”
To be the shameful “den of thieves.”
Far from the temple that He loves
He drives base passions, selfish care,
With His own blood each stain removes,
Then comes and dwells for ever there!