Every annual elapse,
The silent hearts and silent years no more,
Half-echo, mingle in that ghostly tread
And seem to swell the muster vast
And seem to say with hollow steps,
From all that mighty vanguard gone before
To this small rearguard--Dead! Dead! Dead!
A few more years bivouac here,
A few more years of sepulture
In trench or dungeon, grave or moaning deep,
A few more years of Death’s soft slumbering night
Till all that spectral host appear
Before the throned Cynosure
Whose reveille will call them from their sleep
To Heaven’s reviewing--Right! Left! Right!
No shotted cannon, deadly arms,
No trophy of a fallen foe,
Till God define the worthiest conqueror;
Him who has vanquished Death and conquered Doubt
And faced a thousand alarms
Till life sits firmly on his brow
Or echoes through the happy Evermore,
Ye host of victors--Shout! Shout! Shout!
_VINCIT OMNIA JUS_
With one foot on the rock of right already won
And one upon the rock of faith no right can be undone,
I stand prophetic-voiced that presently from these
_Right_ peak by peak shall grandly rise in towering Pyrenees.
The Liberty we know and passionately love
Shall bless the vineyards far below that drink the snows above;
And in the guardian frown of Freedom’s lofty height
Shall think ’tis God who cometh down to thunder for the right.
As from the granite base where we must battle for
To firmly plant each sacred Cause, we rear the mountain o’er,
The bolt of stormy skies shall burst above each peak,
Assuring us when man defies oppression God doth speak.
And if from some sheer crag a vanguard hero fall
The while the coward safely lags who’d rather be a thrall,
We’ll set a cross upon the cliff from which he fell
And over it a victor’s crown of Freedom’s immortelle.
But better still we’ll climb inspired by his fate
To heights of liberty sublime unreached by tyrant’s hate;
And Right shall look at last from mountain-top to land
In glad humanity more vast, in destiny more grand!
THE FLYING JACK
The sky was blue and smiling down
Upon a human sea;
Old Glory fluttered, danced and shone
In varicolored glee.
A merry breeze went laughing through
The laughing folds of silk
Until the red and white and blue
Were sylphs with teeth of milk.
Yet not for them the rapturous eyes
Of shouting crowds were bright,
Who came to hail with praise and prize
The hero winged for flight.
“The first to fly,” the challenge read,
“Shall win the wreath and cup.”
He spread his pinions and o’erhead
A dizzy height went up.
“Bravo! Bravo!” they shouted as
He spiralled down and down;
Then surged toward him in a mass
And wreathed him with the crown.
He smiled and in his eyes of blue
And on his cheeks of red
A something noble came to view
As gallantly he said:
“The cup I’ll keep, the wreath I’ll place
Where it by right belongs;
The first to fly my hand shall grace
And you acclaim with tongues.”
So saying towards his ship he stepped
And set the sails again,
Then in a rising circle swept
With sun-kissed face and plane.
They wondered when they saw him rise
Toward the streamered staff
Until he grazed its middle thrice
And cleared it with a laugh;
Until above its gilded ball
He steadied and from high
The trophy flung before them all
With practised hand and eye.
Upon Old Glory’s head the wreath
Fell true and with it fell
The airman’s words to those beneath
Who needed but their spell:
“The first to fly above our land
On wings that never lag
I crown with patriotic hand,
Our country’s starry flag!”
And then he doffed his cap and lo,
A jackie’s suit he wore
As circling still he cried, “Oho,
I’ve flown in peace and war!”
I rubbed my eyes and all was fled
Except the silken folds
Of Glory floating overhead
A sailor-boy which holds.
HUMOR
SAP’S A-BILIN’
Out in the country where they tap
The maple-trees in Spring,
There’s something doin’ on the map
When March is on the wing.
The bar’ls and buckets overrun,
The busy farmer’s smilin’,
The cracklin’ fire helps the fun;
For sap’s a-bilin’.
Out in the country where they all
Have lived a hundred years
And heard the go-to-meetin’ call
As Sunday storms or clears,
Thermometer’s a-risin’ when
For trouble folks are spilin’;
Till some one pokes the kettle--then
The sap’s a-bilin’.
Just hold a bit--don’t let it burn
By bein’ too intense!
The man who biles has first to learn
A leetle common sense.
It’s sugar that we’re bilin’, mind,
Not human nature rilin’;
So jest go back to sweetness kind
When sap’s a-bilin’!
JUST MUD
What’s this live stuff you call a boy
Just in the plastic stage
And fairly oozing with the joy
Of youth’s unmoulded age?
What’s this to fashion into form
Of early blade or bud
Or fruit with life or color warm?
Why say, just mud!
What’s Summer’s golden harvest-yield
That ripens into grain,
The bloom of orchard, wood or field
So riotous with gain?
What’s this comes trooping with the grace
Of man-and-woman-hood
From out the muck of yesterdays?
Why say, just mud!
What’s yonder statue borne aloft
By noble edifice,
Which passers-by beholding oft
Forget immortal is
Of living deed and living art
(Now clay, once flesh and blood)
Both growing from a humble start?
Why say, just mud!
KNOCKIN’ ROUND
Funny how some men grow up
Knockin’ round--
Drinkin’ out of fortune’s cup
Overwound
With the ivy of Japan
Or a South-American
Revolutionary plot--
Comin’ back no matter what,
Knockin’ round.
After seein’ half the world,
Knockin’ round
Under every flag unfurled
Safe and sound--
Home again from climbin’ Alps,
Raisin’ Filipino scalps,
Fishin’ in a Scottish tarn--
You will find him at the barn
Knockin’ round.
All the smiles of Beauty’s eyes
Knockin’ round
Underneath Italian skies
Or renowned
Erin’s native land of charms
Fade away as in his arms
Blushes--just the same old girl
From whose locks he kept a curl,
Knockin’ round.
THE SNAIL AND STAR
A humble snail crawled from his shell one night
To drink the dew and surfeit on young greens;
How came he wise in nature when so slight
A weakling of it passes wisdom’s means.
But as he inched along, a winking star
His locomotion mocked and oddity--
“How far, O pigmy gastropod, how far
Dost thou suppose it is from thee to me?
“And at the rate of travel thou dost creep
How long to bridge the distance would it take?
Yet I across its vastness nightly leap
While you a paltry rod of progress make.”
“I may be slow,” the snail vouchsafed reply,
“But then I’m no pretense, howe’er you twit;
Thou movest not at all except thy eye
And now as I perceive thy nimble wit.
“No doubt we both our mission magnify;
You give the world the cheer of astral fire
While from a lowlier position I
A proverb for its ridicule inspire,--
“A proverb which, while I’m the ancient butt,
Yet makes the human snail a byword too,
And often moves him more of life to put
In duty; therefore why so much ado?”
The star had no retort, so saved its face
By prompt amends:--“My brother, you are right;
We both are filling our appointed place
To teach the world a lesson. So good night!”
THE OLD SOR’L HOSS
The old sor’l hoss limps up the lane
And whinners for his oats;
But he will never work again
’Cept as the milk he totes
To skimmin’-station down the road
To sort-o’-make-believe
He’s haulin’ of an honest load
And earnin’ his reprieve.
Sure that was paid for long ago
If twenty faithful years
Can make a critter’s master owe
Return for what he clears
By plow and reaper, laden rack,
And stump-an’-loggin’ bee,
Yet gives the beast-of-burden back
Oft scant humanity.
For when the old sor’l hoss’s jints
Grow stiff with work and age,
There’s many a man with musket pints
His death and keeps his wage;
But not this hoss with sorrel mane
And coat, which every morn
Comes limpin’ up the scrubby lane
And whinners for his corn.
NICODEMUS BOGGS
Nicodemus Boggs was named
By scripture-loving aunts,
Though never for that virtue famed
Was Demus----till by chance
His mind was turned to churchly choice,
And then one solemn night
He heard an otherworldly voice
Which put him in a fright
Call
----“Nicodemus! Nico-de-mus!
Nic-o-de-mus Boggs!”
Although there were some folks blasphemous
Who said ’twas only frogs;
Be that however as it may,
To Demus ’twas a sign;
So forthwith he began to pray
And talk of things divine.
Of course ’twas given him to know
Without a studied mind;
His tongue was loosened and the flow
Of words left wit behind.
Yet strange to say no church was moved
His parish to become,
Though Demus said it only proved
The church was deaf and dumb.
For certainly the call was plain,
As often half-asleep
He heard the selfsame voice again
In solemn tones and deep
Urge
----“Nicodemus! Nic-o-de-mus!
Nic-o-de-mus-s Bog-g-s!”
Although there were some folks blasphemous
Who said ’twas only frogs.
Be that as each opined, ’tis sure
With Demus soon it turned
To ague, and the only cure
For flesh which froze or burned,
The doctor ordered, was to drain
The hollow in the rear
Where Demus lived; for while in vain
He followed his career
Of human welfare, there had lain
The most neglected near.
’Twas remedied and ne’er again
Did Nicodemus hear
The voice which had become so famous
For back-door croaks and frogs
Call
----“Nicodemus! Nic-o-de-mus!
Nic-o-de-mus-s Bog-g-s!”
SACRED
WHAT IS FAITH?
Faith is no weakling, howsoe’er
It needeth courage for its task,
But strength whose confidence to dare
Is that which humbles it to ask
A higher help, a higher word
To lift it, bid it trust and try,
Assured its selfless prayer is heard,
Its task beneath a Master’s eye.
Faith is the reasoning of heart
Toward the Heart-of-hearts which beats
In unison with every part
Of all it quickens and completes;
And with a sense of love and plan
Sees only good from truth and right,
Wrong as the only ill which can
Defeat design and quench the light.
Faith is the fortifying gate
Which walls us in, our terrors out,
Through which we fare to conquer fate
Or flee for refuge from our doubt;
Faith blows the trumpet, mans the tower,
Inspires hope, believes in Heaven
And trusts the overruling Power
To care for what its will hath given.
Faith is the burden-bearer’s stay,
The footsore pilgrim’s trusty staff,
The victor’s martial panoply,
The martyr’s noblest epitaph.
Faith is the vision’s inner eye
Whose pupil is the seeing soul,
Its iris the reflected sky,
Its long perspective Spirit’s goal.
A FORGIVENESS
A pilgrim long devout arrived at last
Before the Gate of Paradise, and cast
His staff aside triumphantly to press
Within the dreamed-of goal. But strange to say,
It did not open to his eagerness
As knocking he solicited the way.
“Nay,” said the Guardian Angel of the Gate,
“The proof of thy assurance I await,
The sesame and heavenliest word
That passes here! Three trials shalt thou have,
And if thou hast not found it by the third
No privilege to enter canst thou crave.”
So sure the Pilgrim was the truest right
Must be the one of evangelic might
He quickly answered “LOVE!”
The Angel’s wing
Drooped o’er his countenance as he replied,
“Nay, such a plea might any sinner bring
Like any saint whose zeal is undenied.
“Canst thou not to the name come closer yet
Of Goodness’ greatest key?”
The Pilgrim let
His thoughts go outward in a second quest
And slowly made response, “Why, then, ’tis GRACE,
The covenant and seal of all the rest,
The chain whose lock is Love.”
The Angel’s face
Was still compassionate as he withheld
The entrance, and his pity would have spelled
The password in his eyes as he again
Made answer, “Grace is truly all our hope
In promise and fulfilment, but ’tis when
We lay it to our hearts the Gate we ope
And our admission most divinely plead;
For none can think the word but feels its need
And healing touch.”
The Pilgrim’s brow grew sad,
But as he pondered to his knees he fell
And rose as oft before in wonder glad--
“FORGIVENESS!”
The Angel answered, “Well!”
And stood aside to let him pass.
THE GOOD SAMARITAN
The Good Samaritan was he
Who had compassion not alone
Humanely but divinely. We
Must look beyond the Healer--see
The Sympathizing Savior--be
Forgiven, lifted up and shown
The heart of Love and in our own
Begin to feel the sympathy
Which from His humanness had grown
To deeds of such divinity.
How little ’tis to minister
To one poor soul unless we feel
The touching brotherhood of care,
The sense how easy ’tis to err,
To fall, to need another’s prayer,
Another’s help! But when we kneel
Our fellowfeeling must be real
Enough that we can rise and share
The burden of our own appeal
And help our brother’s cross to bear.
He is the Good Samaritan
Who loves enough to never wrong,
To ever right a brother man--
To bind his wounds and shape the plan
Of life benignly so he can
His neighbor also cheer along.
Blest be the mercifully strong!
Blest be the human-hearted man
Who never quenched a living song!
For he is God’s Samaritan.
SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL
Shepherd of Israel, hear
The calling of thy flock,
And when we seek do thou be near
To lead us to the Rock
Where full and sheltered we
At noonday may repose
Or find at night security
From all our lurking foes!
Help us to trust thy care
Through green or barren ways
And voice our doubts and fears in prayer,
Our blessedness in praise!
If thorns beset our path,
To feel Thou leadest us
Is sweet assurance goodness hath
A loving purpose thus.
Guide us by living streams
That rise in mountain height
And up where wisdom’s heavenly beams
Our spirits bathe in light!
Lead us to ranges high,
To visions rich and broad,
To pinnacles that touch the sky
And help us know Thee, God!
THE LADDER OF CLOUD
There’s a beautiful ladder of fine-spun cloud
That stretches from earth to sky
And up and down it the angels crowd
With calling and soft reply:--
AMRAEL
Children of men, who only by sight
Know that the stars exist,
There was one that shone o’er the world last night
Through an aureole of mist.
MISHAEL
They only saw it who had kept
The vigil of the seers
With inner sense; but ye who slept
Knew not the sign of the years.
URIEL
The spirit of life became a star
And we the herald-host;
And we sang as the Wise Men gazed afar
And the Shepherds Heavenmost;
HOST
Joy to the world! For lo, is born
The Gift-Child! Echo on
And on forever song of morn,
Yet trembling into dawn!
_Refrain_
Joy to the pure in heart! For thou
Alone dost know the worth
And meaning of the Gift, who bow
Before the Virgin-birth.
_Chorus_
All hail Madonna’s Gift
That shall the earth to Heaven uplift!
All hail! Rejoice!
* * * * *
What softening of angel-voice
And light and listening sense
Fell hush-like on the last “Rejoice,
Madonna-reverence!”
* * * * *
The pearly wings the host enshroud,
The voices fade away,
And the beautiful ladder of fine-spun cloud
Becomes the Gate of the Day.
THE RISEN CHRIST MEANS VICTORY
Go forth and hail the Conqueror
With flowers and sacred psalms!
The triumph we observe is more
Than that of martial palms;
For lo! there cometh from the tomb
The Lord of life and life-to-be,
Around whose feet the lilies bloom;
The risen Christ means victory.
Go forth and on His living brow
Entwine a laurel-wreath;
For never was so great as now
The glory of His death!
The Cross and Sepulchre had been
The world’s most damning tragedy
But for the conquered curse of sin;
The risen Christ means victory.
Go forth with precious ointment of
Affection to thy dead,
With Easter’s glad, believing love
That He Who for us bled,
Who slept and rose again, is strong
To roll corruption’s stone away.
And loose the Resurrection Song;
The risen Christ means victory!
THE EVERLASTING ARMS
When to our life dark shadows come,
Stern crosses, sacrificial cares
And other fancied temporal harms,
There is eternal refuge from
Our terrifying doubts and fears
Within the Everlasting Arms.
When o’er our souls temptations sweep
And goodness loses half its grace
As sin pursues us with its charms,
There is no refuge left to keep
But the eternal hiding-place
Within the Everlasting Arms.
When through the valley dark and drear
We walk or see another sink
And death o’ercomes us with alarms,
Be then, Eternal Refuge, near
To hold us up upon the brink
Within the Everlasting Arms!
HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP
The task is done, the sun is set,
The evening shadows fall apace,
The course is run, and tarries yet
The glory only of the race;
But ere the guerdon of the toil
The fleeting soul shall rise to reap,
God maketh it to rest awhile--
He giveth his beloved sleep.
What though the eyes are closed in death,
The tired hands are folded now?
Life shall arise, saith living faith.
And ministry diviner grow.
’Tis but the hush before the day:
The Father bids his angels keep
The treasure that we lay away--
He giveth his beloved sleep.
But not, oh not forever thus
Doth death enshroud our silent ones--
We know not what transfigures us,
What miracle of quickening suns--
But we await their healing wings,
Their living flash, seraphic sweep,
The glory of the King of Kings
Who giveth his beloved sleep.
THE GLORY DWELLS
Oh, the glory that we dream of
Trembling over Bethlehem!
Magi following the beam of
Starry prophecy to them!
Shepherds startled by the gleam of
Heavenly light and angel-hymn!
Time hath made the vision holy,
But I know that glory dwells
Not in manger-village solely,
Nor in dream that prophet tells,
But wherever there’s a lowly
Child-heart, there the glory swells.
Pride of earth and pomp of power
Dazzle with their tinsel show;
But compared to goodness’ dower
They’re as only glint to glow.
Pride is merely for an hour,
Goodness doth to glory grow.
THE LIGHT OF LIFE
O Light of Life, shine thou
Into my soul as doth the Sun of Day
Into the world for seeing with mine eyes!
Reveal the good and evil--teach me how
To stumble not but walk the Living Way
That fills earth with the glory of the skies!
Let there be spirit-quickenings
That thrill the being to responsiveness
Lest vision be but human, uninspired!
Ah, make it throb until from vision springs
Anointed nature to in life express
The Grace which makes the Heavenly desired!
DESIGN
The universe of rolling spheres
Is not for Deity’s display
But for a purpose which appears
In its supernal harmony.
Its mass that in momentum sweeps,
Its energy of elements,
The order which its system keeps
Are aspects of omnipotence;
And power working such design
Is proof of Presence everywhere
Intelligent, supreme, divine,
Both in creatorship and care.
For in His watchcare of the worlds
He-Over-All doth manifest
A greater power than that which whirls
Them on their way at its behest,
A greater purpose than to span
The Heavens by His glory lit;
For ’tis the more eternal plan
Of making all creation fit
For fellowship with Nature’s God
In higher terms of wisdom, truth
And love by perfect will endowed,
Whereof the worlds are but the proof.
Thou Supersoul, who Spirit art
And rulest star-host, wave and wind,
Teach us Thy majesty to heart
And feel in music perfect Mind!
SONG
GOLDEN HOPE
There is nothing in the world so sweet
As the hope which never, never dies,
That sometime, somewhere we shall meet
In gladder love beyond the skies--
Oh, beyond the skies so golden,
With the hope of Heaven olden;
For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet
As the olden, golden hope again to meet!
There is nothing in all the world so fleet
As the hope that ever, ever flies
Swift onward, upward to the seat
Of perfect love beyond the skies--
Oh, beyond the skies so glowing,
With the hope of Heaven growing;
For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet
As the glowing, growing hope again to meet!
There is nothing in all the world so great
As hope that bids us, helps us rise
With more responsive hands and feet,
With gladder tongues and clearer eyes--
Oh, upon the skies so golden,
With the hope of Heaven olden;
For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet
As the olden, golden hope again to meet!
THE COMING CROWNING
When the chariots of glory
Come flashing from the east
On the day of Advent-story,
The crowning of the Christ;
When the clouds are seraph-mounted
And radiant of wing
With angel-hosts uncounted,
And the skies with rapture ring--
My soul, wilt thou undaunted
Meet the coming of the King?
When earth the blessed vision
With lifted eyes beholds
And feels the swift transition
Of glory that enfolds;
When from the skies descending
The hosts of Heaven bring
The Kingdom never-ending
Of which all peoples sing--
O Spirit, wilt thou blending
Hail the coming of the King?
When thrones are set for mercy
And love to minister
To the naked, sick and thirsty
And all who faint or err;
When the Lord of glory reigneth
And choired censers swing
With the praises God ordaineth
As Heavens their banners fling--
O Soul, a crown that gaineth,
Crown and enthrone the King!
THE LIVING CUP
Gather all the beauty and the riches of the world,
The flowers’ blush and lover’s flush,
The hoards of gold and pearl;
But you’ll never have enough to sum
The wealth and treasure up
Like the blessing of the drinking from
The living water’s cup.
Gather all the music and the fountain-springs of love,
The heart’s desire, censer’s fire
And starry host above;
But you’ll never have enough to sum
The soul of gladness up
Like the blessing of the drinking from
The living water’s cup.
Gather all the glories and the triumphs of all time,
Of temples’ pride and kingdoms wide
And grace and art sublime;
But you’ll never have enough to sum
The joy of Heaven up
Like the blessing of the drinking from
The living water’s cup.
THE SINGERS
Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for forever,
In ages gone by and the ages to come,
But what of the voices whose noblest endeavor
Must lift it as high as the height it is from?
For the song must mount up on the wings of the Spirit
And out of the heart that kindles with love
Before all the world will listen to hear it,
Before the world’s sense it trembles above.
Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for wherever
There’s beauty or sunshine, glory or joy;
But what of the voices whose praises must gather
The echoes that melt with the lips they employ?
For the notes must spring up from the souls they awaken
And out of the hearts they kindle with love
Before all the world by their sweetness is shaken,
Before the world’s life they triumph above.
Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for as treasure
Wherever are kingdoms, jewels or gold;
But what of the voices whose heavenly measure
The wealth of the world’s richest treasure must hold?
For the song must be born from the world’s greatest passion
And out of a Heart that was kindled by love
Before all the world its power can fashion
To glory like that of the Master above.
THE CROWN OF THORNS
O crown of thorns upon the brow
Of Him they nailed on Calvary,
The serpent’s coil and sting wert thou,
The seal of sin and agony.
_Chorus_
_For where the grief and thought of us_
_The Savior’s brow had borne,_
_They put the_ MOCKERY _of the Cross,_
_The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn_.
O crown of thorns, whose suffering
The Savior for the world endured,
’Twas thus He healed the serpent’s sting,
The evil mind of nature cured.
_Chorus_
_For where the grief and thought of us_
_The Savior’s brow had borne,_
_They put the_ SORROW _of the Cross,_
_The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn._
O crown of thorns, whose wounds became
Redeeming scars of victory,
The glory where was once the shame--
The diadem of Heaven be!
_Chorus_
_For where the grief and thought of us_
_The Savior’s brow had borne,_
_They put the_ TRIUMPH _of the Cross,_
_The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn_.
SONG ALONG
I sang an old song as I worked one day--
What cared I who smiled,
What cared I who frowned?
So long as my song made the task seem play,
What cared I how many were pleasure-bound?
I heeded them not unless they as well
Were singing a song that work-glad fell,
And then we together went singing along.
I courted my love when dreamers were we--
What cared I who laughed
What cared I who sighed?
So long as my love was the world to me,
What cared I for others the whole world wide?
I heeded them not unless they as well
Were dreaming upon the same love’s spell,
And then we together went dreaming along.
So I worked with a love-song for my cheer--
What cared I who hated
Both labor and joy?
So long as my loved ones to me were dear,
What cared I how others made loving alloy?
I heeded them not unless they as well
Were part of the song which cherubs swell,
And then we together went singing along.
_ECCE HOMO!_
Upon the Cross I see Him nailed,
The man of Nazareth;
His brow is pierced, His visage paled
With sufferings of death.
Around Him gather those who hate
And those who love Him most
To watch His sin-appointed fate
With grief or ruthless boast;
And as His pleading face I scan
All history cries--“Behold the Man!”