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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420634" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>St.Gregory's Guest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A TALE for Roman guides to tell<br>To careless, sight-worn travellers still,<br>Who pause beside the narrow cell<br>Of Gregory on the Caelian Hill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day before the monk's door came<br>A beggar, stretching empty palms,<br>Fainting and fast-sick, in the name<br>Of the Most Holy asking alms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the monk answered, 'All I have<br>In this poor cell of mine I give,<br>The silver cup my mother gave;<br>In Christ's name take thou it, and live.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Years passed; and, called at last to bear<br>The pastoral crook and keys of Rome,<br>The poor monk, in Saint Peter's chair,<br>Sat the crowned lord of Christendom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Prepare a feast,' Saint Gregory cried,<br>'And let twelve beggars sit thereat.'<br>The beggars came, and one beside,<br>An unknown stranger, with them sat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I asked thee not,' the Pontiff spake,<br>'O stranger; but if need be thine,<br>I bid thee welcome, for the sake<br>Of Him who is thy Lord and mine.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A grave, calm face the stranger raised,<br>Like His who on Gennesaret trod,<br>Or His on whom the Chaldeans gazed,<br>Whose form was as the Son of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Know'st thou,' he said, 'thy gift of old?'<br>And in the hand he lifted up<br>The Pontiff marvelled to behold<br>Once more his mother's silver cup.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Thy prayers and alms have risen, and bloom<br>Sweetly among the flowers of heaven.<br>I am The Wonderful, through whom<br>Whate'er thou askest shall be given.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spake and vanished. Gregory fell<br>With his twelve guests in mute accord<br>Prone on their faces, knowing well<br>Their eyes of flesh had seen the Lord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old-time legend is not vain;<br>Nor vain thy art, Verona's Paul,<br>Telling it o'er and o'er again<br>On gray Vicenza's frescoed wall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still wheresoever pity shares<br>Its bread with sorrow, want, and sin,<br>And love the beggar's feast prepares,<br>The uninvited Guest comes in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unheard, because our ears are dull,<br>Unseen, because our eyes are dim,<br>He walks our earth, The Wonderful,<br>And all good deeds are done to Him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420634" data-title="St.Gregory's Guest de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="A TALE for Roman guides to tell
To careless, sight-worn travellers still,
Who pause beside the narrow cell
Of Gregory on the Caelian Hill.

One day before the monk's door came
A beggar, stretching empty palms,
Fainting and fast-sick, in the name
O..."></div>
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