Short of limb, but agile still, the publican
Searched for a spot and found it in a sycamore,
A vantage point above the heads of pressing crowd,
From which to see and hear the one
Who came teaching and preaching
And as he climbed, greed fled the heights
And restitution winged its way
To where he was and rested there.
The Master recognized and welcomed it,
And him, and called his name—
Not all were healed who came to hear,
Because their hearts were closed
Tighter than the fists of him they shunned
Had been, the one the Master came to save,
And did, calling him, lovingly—
Son of Abraham.
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