The Disciple: XXI

As little comfort would it bring,
Amid a throng to pass;
To stand with thousands worshipping
Upon the sea of glass;

To know that, of a sinful world,
I one was saved as well;
My roll of ill with theirs upfurled,
And cast in deepest hell;

That God looked bounteously on one,
Because on many men;
As shone Judea's earthly sun
On all the healed ten.

No; thou must be a God to me
As if but me were none;
I such a perfect child to thee
As if thou hadst but one.