Christian

I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo! The godly multitudes walked to and fro Beneath, in Sabbath garments fitly clad, With pious mien, appropriately sad, While all the church bells made a solemn din -- A fire-alarm to those who lived in sin. Then saw I gazing thoughtfully below, With tranquil face, upon that holy show A tall, spare figure in a robe of white, Whose eyes diffused a melancholy light. 'God keep you, stranger,' I exclaimed. 'You are No doubt (your habit shows it) from afar; And yet I entertain the hope that you, Like these good people, are a Christian too.' He raised his eyes and with a look so stern It made me with a thousand blushes burn Replied -- his manner with disdain was spiced: 'What! I a Christian? No, indeed! I'm Christ.'