At home he was and ready
on lake shore, in city,
to receive, to nourish,
to heal, to inspire.
They came, sometimes alone,
even at night, like Nicodemus;
sometimes increasing
to a multitude.
One of them had to climb a tree
to see, to be seen and recognized.
Few doorstones, hearth fires
for background of welcome
or personal invitation
or appointed hour.
Always at home and ready
stood that compassionate host
unwalled, unroofed,
to receive the desperate, the needy,
who came in and went out.
How could they question,
how doubt
their status as guests
in the Father's house?
