THE MERCHANT’S STORY

From God Made Them Good by James L. Huges, (Toront 1922)

An old policeman came to me:

“I came to warn you, sir,” said he;

‘‘You have a wayward, wicked boy,

Just out of jail, in your employ.

I am a Christian man, and so

I thought it right that you should know.”

“Tell me,” I said, “about his case.”

“I will,” said he; “he’s a disgrace;

Lives on my street; I know him well

And all about him I can tell.

His father drank himself to death;

For years he drew no sober breath.

His mother worked away from home,

So on the street she let him roam.

I often told her that her son

Would into downward courses run.

I tried my best to be his friend,

And told him how it all would end.

I am an officer, and know

How to the bad such boys must go.

I saw him steal some cakes one day

And round the corner run away.

I caught him, and I had him sent

To jail. I told him to repent,

But I’m afraid he never will —

I think he’s hard and willful still.”

“Sit down,” I said, “and let me tell

His story. I, too, know it well.

His honest mother bravely tried

To labor, when his father died,

To keep her son at school, that he

Might grow an honest man to be.

You made him hate the law and you.

You ne’er a kindly deed did do

To warm his heart with human glow,

Or brighten up his life of woe.

His mother’s heart, already sad,

You broke by tales about her lad.

When she grew sick ’twas for her sake

He stole the cakes you saw him take.

She starved and died. To jail you sent

Her son! ’Tis you who should repent.”

“A man whose heart has human glow,

Who goes to jail and tries to show

The children that they have one friend

On whom they truly may depend,

Told me the story of the boy

Whose childhood had so little joy.

I saw him — looked in his blue eye,

And heard his broken-hearted cry

Because he never more could see

His mother; so I asked if he

Would be my boy and live with me.

I met him when he was set free

And took him home, my boy to be.”

“You cannot trust that boy,” said he.

“You’ll find I’m right, sir; wait and see.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “I’ll trust him, so

His better life may truly grow.

My faith in him will help to start

His faith in me, then in his heart.

The seeds of faith in higher -powers

Will grow and blossom into flowers.

No fetters round his soul I’ll bind;

I’ll be his partner, just and kind;

You call yourself a Christian! Shame!

To so degrade Christ’s sacred name.

What Christ-like action did you take

To keep the boy’s best power awake?

Was he to blame because he had

No father’s guidance when a lad?

In rags you saw him on the street;

You knew he had not food to eat.

Would Christ have chased a boy like him,

Whose pleading eyes with tears were dim,

Because he took a cake to save

His starving mother from the grave?

You caught the boy and sent him where

His soul was filled with deep despair.

Would Christ have done so? No!

He gave His life that He such boys might save.

And, when you found that he was here,

You did not come his heart to cheer:

You came to rob him of his right

To work, and have a life more bright.

Christ would have come the boy to bless

With love, and hope, and happiness.

Humanity must learn to be

More kind and just to such as he.”