Other Sheep

Pagan, Papist, Protestant!
What is that to thee or me?
Make not Heaven’s mercy scant
With thy pampered bigotry.

Who made thee the judge to be
Of thy brother’s destiny?
Deem not that thy shibboleth
Holds the keys of life and death.

Ah, that secret, sullen sign!
Call it not decree divine;
For a letter, more, or less,
Measures not God’s tenderness.

“Other sheep I have,” said One
Who was more than Mary’s son;—
Eyes as blind as thine shall see
His amazing charity.

When it claims the judgment-throne,
What is creed but craft and cant?
God will surely know His own:—
Pagan, Papist, Protestant.