Chapter IV: Story of Jesus—on Him be safety!—and the Pharisee

I have heard the narrators of history tell,That when Jesus was living (may peace on Him dwell),A person had wasted his life in vile ways,And in folly and error had squandered his days.He was froward and sinful, for heartlessness famed:At his vileness, the Devil himself was ashamed!He had brought, without profit, his days to a close ;As long as he lived, not a soul had repose.His head, void of wisdom, was full of conceit,And his stomach was stuffed with prohibited meat.His skirt was polluted by practices vile,And his household was crusted with deeds that defile.Not a footing had he, like beholders upright;Not an ear, like the men who hear truths with delight.As from famine, the people away from him fly;All pointing, as at the new moon in the sky.Foul lust had so set all his harvest on fire,That a grain of good name he had failed to acquire.He was vile, and so freely had pleasure's cup drained,That for writing, no place in his record remained.A sinner self-willed and adoring lust's sight ;In negligence stupid and drunk day and night.Jesus Christ, I have heard, from the wilderness came,And passed by the hut of a hermit of fame.The hermit came down from his room at the sound,And fell at his feet, with his head on the ground.The sinner, ill-starred, from afar saw the sight ;Like the moth, he was greatly amazed at their light.Ashamed and reflecting, because of regret;Like a pauper in front of a wealthy man set;Asking. pardon, abashed, in words fervent and low,For the nights of neglect into day-light let go.Tears of grief as from clouds showered down from his eyes ;"Ah ! my life in neglect has been wasted," he cries ;"The coin of dear life, to the wind I have thrown,And have brought not one atom of goodness my own.May no person be able to live, such as I;Than like me to be living, 'twere better to die!He was saved who in infancy passed to the dead,For to manhood he bore not a shame-laden head.Oh, Creator of Earth ! from my sins set me free ;For I'm badly allied if they travel with me !"In this corner, lamenting, the sinful old man—Crying, " Aid my sad plight ! for, oh helper, you can !"—Was standing, ashamed, with his head bent before,While over his bosom repentant tears pour.And the worshipper there, with his head full of pride,From afar, at the profligate frowning, thus cried :"Why does this apostate our footsteps pursue?What kindred has this ruined wretch with us two?One worthy to fall headlong down into fire,Having yielded his life up to lustful desire.From his foul skirted spirit, what goodness has come,That with the Messiah and me, he should chum?It were well, had he carried his troubles off, first,And followed to hell all his actions accursed!I grieve, on account of his villainous face,Lest the fire of his guilt should in me find a place.When the meeting is called, on the Last Judgment Day,Do not raise me, oh God! with this creature I pray!"Thus speaking, a voice from the glorious GodCame to Jesus (on Whom be all blessings bestowed!) :"If that one is learned, and, if ignorant this,The petitions of both have not reached Me amiss.He who wrecked all his prospects and ruined his days,With weeping and fervour to Me humbly prays.Whoever in humbleness seeks for My face,I will not expel from the threshold of grace.I have pardoned the horrible sins he has wrought;By My favour, to Paradise will he be brought.And should the ' Adorer of Worship feel shameLest he should in Paradise fellowship claim,Say, ' Blush not for him, at the Last Judgment Morn,For they'll bear him to Heav'n and to Hell you'll be borne!That one's liver turned blood through his burning and grief,If the other relied on himself for relief.He was not aware that at God's justice seat,Humility's better than pride and conceit."For the man, whose clothes clean and soul filthy, you see,The gate of hell-fire has no need for a key.At this threshold, infirmness and scantness of pelf,Are better than worship and fondness of self.When you count yourself one of the good, you are bad ;Conceit, in divinity never was clad !If manly, don't boast of your manliness here !The ball is not captured by each cavalier.That mean one appeared, like an onion, all skin,Who thought he had brains, like a pista, within.This sort of devotion's a profitless thing ;Go, and pleas for defects in your worshipping, bring !No fruit for his worship that fool ever had,Who was good before God and with people was bad.Speech exists as a monument over the wise ;From Sadi one word in your memory prize !"A sinner who thinks about God, now and then,Excels the adorer, devout before men."