Explore "The Sweeper of the Floor" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Methought that in a solemn church I stood. / Its marble acres, worn with knees and feet, / Lay spread from door to door, from street to street. / Midway the form hung high upon the rood / Of him who gave his life to be our good; / Beyond, priests flitted, bowed, and murmured meet, / Among the candles shining still and sweet. / Men came and went, and worshipped as they could -- / And still their dust a woman with her broom, / Bowed to her work, kept sweeping to the door. / Then saw I, slow through all the pillared gloom, / Across the church a silent figure come: / "Daughter," it said, "thou sweepest well my floor! " / It is the Lord! I cried, and saw no more.