The Master came at the dawning,
When the shadows were lying deep;
But I failed to discern His thorn-marred brow,
For my eyes were heavy with sleep.
And so, with a scanty greeting,
I dismissed Him from my door;
And sadly He turned His face away,
As oft He had done before.

He came again at the noontide,
On the busy, crowded street;
But my mind was on the hurrying throng,
And I saw not His piercèd feet.
And so I pushed rudely by Him,
In haste to be on my way,
Not knowing the joy I might have had,
If I’d walked with Him that day.

I often had said I was longing
For the Master’s presence near;
And told of the royal welcome
I’d give Him, should He appear.
I never supposed for a moment,
That the very One I sought
Had touched me as He passed along,
Unnoticed, by word, or thought.

He came again in the twilight,
When the toil of the day was past;
And I saw the prints of nails and spear,
My vision was clear at last.
He entered my humble dwelling,
His presence brought light and cheer;
But I wept as I thought of the lonely day,
When I might have had Him near.

I asked Him to stay with me alway,
And promised to serve Him well;
The joy that His answer gave me,
Is beyond my power to tell.
He crowns my life with His blessings,
He walks with me day by day;
And my heart is filled with gladness,
For the Master has come to stay.

S. Otis Roe, The Con­gre­ga­tion­al­ist and
Christian World, vol­ume 93, num­ber 49,
(Bos­ton, Mas­sa­chu­setts & Chi­ca­go,
Illinois: Pil­grim Press, De­cem­ber 5, 1908),
p. 777