"O let Him wear a kingly crown."_
_From wise men's gifts she wrought the crown,
The robe inwove with many a gem,
Beside the Babe she laid them down.
He wept, and would have none of them._
_"What shall I get for Thee, my Child?"
Unto the door she slowly went,
And wove a crown of thorn-boughs wild,
He took it up, and was content._
_Upon the floor she gathered wood,
And made a little Cross for Him;
The Child smiled for He understood,
And Mary watched with eyes grown dim._
_"Since these He doth prefer to gold,"
She sadly said, "Let it be so;
He sees what I cannot behold,
He knows what I can never know."_
_That night the eyes of Mary saw
A Cross of stars set in the sky,
Which after it the heavens did draw,
And this to her was God's reply._
XI
A LOVER OF MEN
When I recollect these experiences, and the almost breathless sense of
joy which accompanied them, I can only marvel that I lived so many
years without discovering the path that led to them. The path was
quite plain, and nothing concealed it from me but my own pride. I
could even see with distinctness those who trod it, not only the saints
of far-off days, but men like Father Dolling, and women whose pale
intense faces met mine from beneath the quaint ugliness of Salvation
Army bonnets.
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