Sunlit the hour, time ago,
When a figure came walking,
Backed by the light,
In a robe of white.
Joyous the shout of, "Welcome!
Come in, come in!" when they saw him.
But he sat in the shade
While Mary, unbidden, sat down near him
With words that were measured,
How the light of his thought
Caught well the sharp, bright edges
Of hers, and recensed them!
Impatient with burdens
That other complained,
"Lord, dost thou not care
That my sister hath left me?"
Swift with compassion, he inclined his head.
"But one thing is needful, Martha," he said.
Martha, returning to serve once more,
Stood at the sill of the open door,
And the sunlight leaned upon her there,
Pausing at the threshold of encumbrance and care.
But one thing is needful,
Chosen that good part,
Careful and troubled—
Yes, Martha, thou art!
When those two arose from the shade
And were come in, could Martha have said,
"Lord, I am grateful that on this day
Thou with me hast broken bread"?
