One day an angel came and asked a king,
Sated with power, with love of pomp and gold,
Four things that God must dearly love, to bring
And set them in his presence, so 'tis told.
The king went forth and came again ere night,
And set before the angel in that hour
A jewelled crown, a scepter gleaming bright,
A battle weapon, and a throne of power.
The angel's face grew shaded as he gazed
Upon the king's poor playthings gathered there.
At last his countenance again was raised.
He said: "These are the trappings pride must wear.
But God's great kingdom knows a richer worth:
A truer value is its high concern."
"Go," pled the king, "and from the mighty earth
Bring me these things, I wait for thy return."
"'Nay, come with me," the angel said, "and I,
Tho I may lead a long and weary way,
Will show you what is best beneath the sky."
These are the things he showed the king that day:
A friendly life that served unselfishly,
A flower that grew in sweetness undefiled,
A fireside where were love and purity,
The unspoiled spirit of a little child.
-Clarence E. Flynn
Sated with power, with love of pomp and gold,
Four things that God must dearly love, to bring
And set them in his presence, so 'tis told.
The king went forth and came again ere night,
And set before the angel in that hour
A jewelled crown, a scepter gleaming bright,
A battle weapon, and a throne of power.
The angel's face grew shaded as he gazed
Upon the king's poor playthings gathered there.
At last his countenance again was raised.
He said: "These are the trappings pride must wear.
But God's great kingdom knows a richer worth:
A truer value is its high concern."
"Go," pled the king, "and from the mighty earth
Bring me these things, I wait for thy return."
"'Nay, come with me," the angel said, "and I,
Tho I may lead a long and weary way,
Will show you what is best beneath the sky."
These are the things he showed the king that day:
A friendly life that served unselfishly,
A flower that grew in sweetness undefiled,
A fireside where were love and purity,
The unspoiled spirit of a little child.
-Clarence E. Flynn
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