Over his forge bent David Gray / And thought of the rich man 'cross the way. / "Hammer and anvil for me," he said, / "And weary toil for my children's bread." / "For Him, soft carpets and pictured walls, / A life of ease in his spacious halls. / The clang of bells on his dreaming broke, / A flicker of flame, a whirl of smoke. / Horses unshod, forge grown white-hot, / Coat and hat were alike forgot. / As up on the highway the blacksmith ran, / In face and mien a crazy man. / "School house afire," Men's hearts stood still / And the women prayed, as women will. / While 'bove the tumult the wailing cry / Of frightened children rose shrill and high. / Night in its shadows his sun and earth; / The rich man sat by his costly hearth. / Lord of wide acres and untold gold, / But wifeless, childless, forlorn and old. / He thought of the family 'cross the way, / "I would," he sighed, "I were David Gray." / The blacksmith stood by his children's bed, / To look once more at each smiling head. / "My darlings all safe. Oh, God," he cried, / "My sin in Thy boundless mercy hide." / "Only today have I learned how great / Hath been Thy bounty and my estate."