“Then shall he say unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed.  For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.  Then shall they answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?  Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.”

After spending the greater portion of his life in many distant climes in a fruitless endeavor to find the Cup of the Holy Grail,[C] thinking that thereby he was doing the greatest service he could for God, Sir Launfal at last returns an old man, gray-haired and bent.  He finds that his castle is occupied by others, and that he himself is an outcast.  His cloak is torn; and instead of the charger in gilded trappings he was mounted upon when as a young man, he started out with great hopes and ambitions, he is afoot and leaning on a staff.  While sitting there and meditating, he is met by the same poor and needy leper he passed the morning he started, the one who in his need asked for aid, and to whom he had flung a coin in scorn, as he hurried on in his eager desire to be in the Master’s service.  But matters are changed now, and he is a wiser man.  Again the poor leper says:—­

    “’For Christ’s sweet sake, I beg an alms’;—­
    The happy camels may reach the spring,
    But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing,
    The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone,
    That cowers beside him, a thing as lone
    And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas
    In the desolate horror of his disease.

    “And Sir Launfal said:  ’I behold in thee
    An image of Him who died on the tree;
    Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns,—­
    Thou also hast had the world’s buffets and scorns,—­
    And to thy life were not denied
    The wounds in the hands and feet and side: 
    Mild Mary’s Son, acknowledge me;
    Behold, through him, I give to thee!’

    “Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes
      And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway be
    Remembered in what a haughtier guise
      He had flung an alms to leprosie,
    When he girt his young life up in gilded mail
    And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. 
    The heart within him was ashes and dust;
    He parted in twain his single crust,
    He broke the ice on the streamlet’s brink,
    And gave the leper to eat and drink,
    ’Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread,
      ’Twas water out of a wooden bowl,—­
    Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed,
      And ’twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul.