These have made my journey slow."

Then the abbot, growing bolder,

Raised the load with trembling hand

From the Father's bended shoulder;

Looked—and found it filled with sand.

Of them all, there was not any

But was silent for a while;

For the best had sins as many

As the sand-grains in that pile!

Then they heard the abbot saying,

"God alone must judge us all!"

And a burden, heavy weighing,

Seemed from every heart to fall.

Awed and hushed, but no more keeping

Pity crushed, or love restrained,

Some were smiling, some were weeping;

Of their striving what remained?

Many bowed in veneration;

Others all in haste to go

With a word of consolation

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