The Borrowed Axe

I

1 The prophets’ sons in times of old,
  Though to appearance poor,
Were rich without possessing gold,
  And honour’d though obscure.

II

In peace their daily bread they eat,
  By honest labour earn’d;
While daily at Elisha’s feet
  They grace and wisdom learn’d.

III

The prophet’s presence cheer’d their toil,
  They watch’d the words he spoke,
Whether they turn’d the furrow’d soil,
  Or fell’d the spreading oak.

IV

Once as they listen’d to his theme
  Their conference was stopp’d;
For one beneath the yielding stream
  A borrow’d axe had dropp’d.

V

“Alas! it was not mine,” he said;
  “How shall I make it good?”
Elisha heard, and when he pray’d,
  The iron swam like wood.

VI

If God in such a small affair
  A miracle performs,
It shows his condescending care
  Of poor unworthy worms.

VII

Though kings and nations in his view
  Are but as motes and dust,
His eyes and ear are fix’d on you
  Who in his mercy trust.

VIII

Not one concern of ours is small
  If we belong to him.
To teach us this, the Lord of all
  Once made the iron swim.