He that hath a Gospel To loose upon Mankind, Though he serve it utterly, Body, soul and mind, Though he go to Calvary Daily for its gain, It is His Disciple Shall make his labour vain. He that hath a Gospel For all earth to own, Though he etch it on the steel, Or carve it on the stone, Not to be misdoubted Through the after-days, It is His Disciple Shall read it many ways. It is His Disciple (Ere Those Bones are dust ) Who shall change the Charter, Who shall split the Trust, Amplify distinctions, Rationalize the Claim; Preaching that the Master Would have done the same. It is His Disciple Who shall tell us how Much the Master would have scrapped Had he lived till now, What he would have modified Of what he said before. It is His Disciple Shall do this and more.... He that hath a Gospel Whereby Heaven is won (Carpenter, or cameleer, Or Maya's dreaming son), Many swords shall pierce Him, Mingling blood with gall; But His Own Disciple Shall wound Him worst of all!
Return to the Rudyard Kipling Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; The Dove of Dacca