Then to all of his servants who still remain,
The King, with renewed resolution, will say:
'Those I invited, unworthy have proved,
Yet still there's a feast, the finest of food!
Go out to the markets, alleys and streets,
Call in the outcasts to come and to eat!
Go bring in the poor, the blind, and the lame,
Call in those burdened with heartache and pain.'
So the servants go out, in come the crowds,
But still there is room to gather around.
'Look, Lord,' they say, 'we've done as you asked,
Yet still seats are empty at your repast.'
'Then go further out,' their Master replies,
'Yes, out to the paths of the countryside,
And call everyone, all those whom you meet;
Constrain them to come to the joy of my feast!
My house shall be full, in spite of the fact
That those I invited have all turned their backs.
Of them, at my table, shall none get to feast,
For my joy goes out to the least of the least.'