Methinks I see, with what a busy haste
Zacchaeus climbed the tree. But oh how fast,
How full of speed, canst thou imagine, when
Our Savior called, he powdered down again!
He ne'er made trial if the boughs were sound
Or rotten, nor how far 'twas to the ground.
There was no danger feared: at such a call,
He'll venture nothing, that dare fear a fall.
Needs must he down, by such a spirit driven;
Nor could he fall, unless he fell to heaven.
Down came Zacchaeus ravished from the tree:
Bird that was shot ne'er dropped so quick as he.