The Beggar's Lot

We come to You as beggars in the night
Hungry, cold, and aching.
Thus we knock on the gilt doors of Your mansion
And You answer, burning bright.
You've no need for inquiry,
No payment do You ask,
But take us in, soiled as we are,
Bathe us, clothe us in purest garments, new-washed.
Our hunger and thirst You quickly sate;
We will no longer suffer want.
The hour nears,
But not yet too late.
The gilt doors beckon,
The Master's home.
Don't fear, He's room for all.