How fine Luke's tale about small Zaccai,
Who sought to see the Master passing by,
"And could not for the press," so ran before
To climb the branches of a sycamore.
Our Lord looked up and hailed him as a friend;
He bade Zacchaeus speedily descend;
Who, coming, glowed with truly humble pride,
When told, "This day must I with thee abide."
So joy we when, despite the claims of sin,
The Christ-thought to our conscience enters in,
Abiding this and every other day,
If with Zacchaeus' humbleness we pray.
