If I might guess, then guess I would <br />That, mid the gathered folk, <br />This gentle Dorcas one day stood, <br />And heard when Jesus spoke. <br /> <br />She saw the woven seamless coat- <br />Half envious, for his sake: <br />'Oh, happy hands,' she said, 'that wrought <br />The honoured thing to make!' <br /> <br />Her eyes with longing tears grow dim: <br />She never can come nigh <br />To work one service poor for him <br />For whom she glad would die! <br /> <br />But, hark, he speaks! Oh, precious word! <br />And she has heard indeed! <br />'When did we see thee naked, Lord, <br />And clothed thee in thy need?' <br /> <br />'The King shall answer, Inasmuch <br />As to my brethren ye <br />Did it-even to the least of such- <br />Ye did it unto me.' <br /> <br />Home, home she went, and plied the loom, <br />And Jesus' poor arrayed. <br />She died-they wept about the room, <br />And showed the coats she made.<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dorcas/
