Harold
Monro .
Lazarus .
Thy soul !
Joscelyn . 'Tis
Lazarus .
Lazarus .
Dives , thou hast none.
God knows
thee not.
I
speak
in
no extreme:
The
rich
have
forfeited
their
souls — not
one
Can
enter
Heaven .
Do not
thou
blaspheme !
Men
praise
the rich :
once
I
was one of those .
But, now
I know
the restfulness
of dearth ,
I would
not sacrifice my
tattered
clothes
For
all
the gathered
fortunes
of
the
earth
.
[
Lazarillo
appears
.
God
is
not found
in
strife
,
nor
in
the mart
;
He
is
not
on
the
land nor
in
the
sea
,
But
deep
in
the recesses
of
the heart
:
He dwells
in
Jesus
—
Jesus
dwells
in
me
.
Christ
is
the holy
pattern
and the way
;
He
is
the
everlasting
inner light
:
Oh
,
wonderful
His
guidance
in
the
day
,
And
beautiful
His
presence
in
the
night
.
Lazarillo
.
The night
?
Lazarus
.
The night
!-
Unmindful
of
the rich
,
He dwells
within
the
bosom
of
the poor
,
Comforting
them
in
darkness
—
Lazarillo
.
All
of
which
I
often
heard
,
far
better
said
,
before
.
Thy
tattered
raiment
,
and
thy
Christ
Within
Proceed
from
fear
-
if
thou wouldst but
confess
.
Thy God
is
but thy
one besetting
sin
Innate
,
unconquerable
laziness
.
I,
who love
all
adventure
,
and
the
play
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