ROBERT W. SERVICE November 1 1919


ROBERT W. SERVICE November 1 1919



Author of “Rhymes of a Red Oróse Mían,” “Songs of a Sourdough, etc.

A wild and woeful race he ran Of lust and sin by land and sea,

Until abhorred of God and man They swung him from the gallows tree.

And then he climbed the Starry Stair,

And, dumb and naked and alone,

With head unbowed and brazen glare,

He stood before the Judgment Throne.

The Keeper of the Records spoke:

“This man, O Lord, has mocked Thy Name. The weak have wept beneath his yoke,

The strong have fled before his flame.

The blood of babes is on his sword,

His life is evil to the brim :

Look down and doom this wretch, O Lord! Lo! there is none will plead for him.”

The golden trumpets blew a blast That echoed in the crypts of Hell,

For there was judgment to be passed,

And lips were hushed, and silence fell.

The man was mute ; he made no stir,

Erect before the Judgment Seat. . .

Then all at once a mongrel cur

Crept out and cowered and licked his feet.

It licked his feet with whining cry.

Come Heav'n, come Hell, what did it care? It leapt, it tried to catch his eye;

Its master, yea, its God, was there.

Then as a thrill of wonder sped Through throngs of shining seraphim,

The Judge of All looked down and said : “Lo! here is ONE who pleads for him.

“And who shall love of these the least,

And who by word or look or deed Shall pity show to bird or beast,

By Me shall have a friend in need.

Aye, though his sin be black as night,

And though he stand mid men alone,

He shall be softened in My sight And find a pleader by My Throne.

“So let this man to glory win;

From life to life salvation glean,

By pain and sacrifice and sin Until he stand before me—clean.

For he who loves the least of these—

And here I say and here repeat—

Shall win himself an angel's pleas For Mercy at My Judgment Seat.”