A continuation of Leigh Hunt's Poem.
Abou Ben Adhem, wise with life's increase,
Awoke one night--not from a dream of peace,
For sorely on his faithful spirit weighed
The pangs of all the creatures God had made;
And worst, man's power abused, man's charge betrayed.
He listened, till it seemed the very stone
To shame man's cruel hardness, made its moan.
But vain the speechless, agonizing appeal,
While sage and saint seek only human weal.
Then to the watcher, sad for human blame,
The Angel with the Record, tempting, came;
Who stood and said: "Dost thou not envy then,
These, who have loved and served their fellow men?"
Ben Adhem saw a long and shining roll;
Heroes and Martyrs, Prophets of the soul,
Great Preachers, Statesmen moulding freedom's laws,
And grand Reformers, brave in duty's cause.
"All these," said Adhem, "these have wrought and planned
For Man already rich in brain and hand.
Who pleads for those whom few can understand--
Our dear dumb brothers, piteous-eyed and meek?
O, that I were the tongue for them to speak!
Nay, not for me let Fame her laurels bind,
Nor Faith her palms; but, if thou wilt be kind,
Write me as one who fain would choose his lot
With those whom man despised and Heaven forgot;
Who found in fields and woods his friendly teachers,
And ever loved his lowliest fellow-creatures."
The Angel wrote and vanished. The next night,
He came and showed, high on his roll of light,
The names of those who served their race best;
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
