Christ, wilt thou stand once more and gloss the Law?
If wage of ill be death and wage of good
Were surely life, O Rabbi, Master, could
My soul have reaped this harvest, chaff and straw,
And burning thistle, that had sowed with awe
In God's own sun, for love and livelihood —
Still trusting thee, O Christ, not understood —
A field as fair as husband ever saw?

But Christ: " Man's faith when man goes out to sow,
Even as man's grief when man comes back to reap,
Are more than seed or harvest — let them go.
Thy soul's experience as new winters sweep
New summers from the hills, at last shall know
To gloss the Law — for lo, the Law is deep. "