"Heavenly Crown" Rich

Elias Rich would kneel at night by the wooden kitchen chair,
He would clutch the rungs and bow his head and pray his bed-time prayer.
And his prayer was ever the same old plea, repeated for two-score years:
"Oh, Lord Most High, please hear my cry from this vale of sin and tears.
I hain't no 'count and I hain't done much that's worthy in Thy sight,
But I've done the best that I could, dear Lord, accordin' to my light.
I've done as much for my feller man as really,
Lord, I could,
Consid'rin' my pay is a dollar a day and I've earnt it choppin' wood.
I've never hankered no great on earth for more'n my food and roof,
And all of the meat that I've had to eat was cut near horn or hoof;
But I thank Thee, Lord, that I've earnt my way and I hain't got 'on the town,'
And when I die I know that I shall sartin wear a crown."
Whenever he mumbled his simple prayer in the kitchen by his chair,
Aunt Rich would rattle the supper pans and sniff with a scornful air.
She'd never "professed," as the saying is, she never had felt a "call,"
And she constantly prodded Elias with,
"'Tain't prayer that counts, it's sprawl."
There are some who are born for the pats of
Life and some for the cuffs and whacks,
Elias fought the wolf of want as best he might with his axe;
He even aided with scanty store some desolate
Tom or Jim,
But at last when his poor old arms gave out no hands were reached to him.
Folks said that a man who was paralyzed required some special care,
And allowed that the poor farm was the place; so they carried the old folks there.
'Twas a heavy cross for Elias' wife but Elias ne'er complained,
To all of her frettings he made reply: "When our Heavenly Home is gained,
'Twill be the sweeter for troubles here and though we're on the town,
God keeps up There our mansion fair and He has our golden crown."
They were dreary years that Elias lived, one half of his body dead,
He sat in his cold, bare, town-farm room and patiently spelled and read
The promise his old black Bible gave, and then he'd lift his eyes
And look right up through the dingy walls to his mansion in the skies.
They mockingly called him "Heavenly
Crown" when he talked of his faith, but he
Smiled sweetly ever and meekly said, "I know what I can see!"
When he died at last and the parson preached above the stained, pine box,
He said, "Perhaps this simple faith was a bit too orthodox;
Perhaps allowance should be made for the metaphors divine
And yet, my friends, I'll not presume to make such province mine.
Though in that Book the highest thought can find transcendent food,
'Tis primer, too, for the poor and plain, the unlearned and the rude.
And so I say no man to-day should seek to tear it down,
Nor flout the homely, honest soul that claims its golden crown."
Friends placed above Elias' grave a plain, white marble stone,
And months went by. Then all at once 'twas seen that there had grown
Upon the polished marble slab a shading that,
'twas said,
Took on a shape extremely like Elias' shaggyhead.
Then soon above the shadowy brows a crown was slowly limned,
And though Aunt Rich scrubbed zealously the thing could not be dimmed.
She always scoffed Elias' faith without rebuke through life
But now, the neighbors all averred, Elias braved his wife.
For though with brush and soap and sand she scrubbed and rubbed by day,
The figure seemed to grow each night and those there are who say .
That many a time when the moon was dim a wraith with ghostly skill
Wrought there with spectral brush and limned that picture deeper still.
And there it is unto this day and strangers passing by
Turn in and stand above the mound to gaze with awe-struck eye,
And wonder if Elias came from Heaven stealing down
To mutely say in this quaint way that now he wears his crown.