Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

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 139