The Leper

“ROOM for the leper! room!” And as he came The cry passed on,—“Room for the leper! room!”* * * * * And aside they stood, Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood,—all Who met him on his way,—and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, Crying, “Unclean! unclean!”* * * * * Day was breaking When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof, Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. The echoes of the melancholy strain Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off His costly raiment for the leper’s garb, And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still, Waiting to hear his doom:— “Depart! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, And to the desert wild From all thou lov’st away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague his people may be free. “Depart! and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more; Nor set thy foot a human threshold o’er; And stay thou not to hear Voices that call thee in the way; and fly From all who in the wilderness pass by. “Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide; Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, Nor kneel thee down to dip The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, By desert well, or river’s grassy brink. “And pass not thou between The weary traveller and the cooling breeze, And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain Nor pluck the standing corn or yellow grain. “And now depart! and when Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him Who, from the tribes of men, Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. Depart! O leper! and forget not God!” And he went forth—alone! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, Sick and heart-broken and alone,—to die! For God had cursed the leper! It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched The loathsome water to his fevered lips, Praying that he might be so blest,—to die! Footsteps approached, and, with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip, Crying, “Unclean! unclean!” and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger came, and, bending o’er The leper’s prostrate form, pronounced his name. —“Helon!”—the voice was like the master-tone Of a rich instrument,—most strangely sweet; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. “Helon! arise!” and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him. Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon’s eye As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a princely lineage wore; No followers at his back, nor in his hand Buckler or sword or spear,—yet in his mien Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, A kingly condescension graced his lips The lion would have crouched to in his lair. His garb was simple, and his sandals worn; His stature modelled with a perfect grace; His countenance, the impress of a God, Touched with the open innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon; his hair unshorn Fell to his shoulders; and his curling beard The fulness of perfected manhood bore. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down, He took a little water in his hand And laid it on his brow, and said, “Be clean!” And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant’s stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus’ feet, and worshipped him.