Unhoused in deserts of accepted thought,And lost in jungles of confusing creeds,My soul strayed, homeless, finding its own needsUnsatisfied with what tradition taught.
The pros and cons, the little ifs and ands,The but and maybe, and the this and that,On which the churches thicken and grow fat,I found but structures built on shifting sands.
And all their heavens were strange and far away,And all their hells were made of human hate;And since for death I did not care to wait,A heaven I fashioned for myself one day.
Of happy thoughts I built it stone by stone,With joy of life I draped each spacious room,With love’s great light I drove away all gloom,And in the centre I made God a throne.
And this dear heaven I set within my heart,And carried it about with me alway,And then the changing dogmas of the daySeemed alien to my thoughts and held no part.
Now as I take my heaven from place to placeI find new rooms by love’s revealing light,And death will give me but a larger sightTo see my palace spreading into space.
On a bleak, bald hill with a dull world under,The dreary world of the Commonplace,I have stood when the whole world seemed a blunderOf dotard Time, in an aimless race.With worry about me and want before me—Yet deep in my soul was a rapture springThat made me cry to the grey sky o’er me:‘Oh, I know this life is a goodly thing!’
I have given sweet years to a thankless dutyWhile cold and starving, though clothed and fed,For a young heart’s hunger for joy and beautyIs harder to bear than the need of bread.I have watched the wane of a sodden season,Which let hope wither, and made care thrive,And through it all, without earthly reason,I have thrilled with the glory of being alive.
And now I stand by the great sea’s splendour,Where love and beauty feed heart and eye.The brilliant light of the sun grows tenderAs it slants to the shore of the by and by.I prize each hour as a golden treasure—A pearl Time drops from a broken string:And all my ways are the ways of pleasure,And I know this life is a goodly thing.
And I know, too, that not in the seeing,Or having, or doing the things we would,Lies that deep rapture that comes from beingAt one with the Purpose which made all good.And not from Pleasure the heart may borrowThat rare contentment for which we strive,Unless through trouble, and want, and sorrowIt has thrilled with the glory of being alive.
There is no summit you may not attain,No purpose which you may not yet achieve,If you will wait serenely and believeEach seeming loss is but a step toward gain.
Between the mountain-tops lie vale and plain;Let nothing make you question, doubt or grieve;Give only good, and good alone receive;And as you welcome joy, so welcome pain.
That which you most desire awaits your word;Throw wide the door and bid it enter in.Speak, and the strong vibrations shall be stirred;Speak, and above earth’s loud, unmeaning dinYour silent declarations shall be heard.All things are possible to God’s own kin.
Talk not of strength, until your heart has knownAnd fought with weakness through long hours alone.
Talk not of virtue, till your conquering soulHas met temptation and gained full control.
Boast not of garments, all unscorched by sin,Till you have passed, unscathed, through fires within.
Oh, poor that pride the unscarred soldier shows,Who safe in camp, has never faced his foes.
A granite rock in the mountain sideGazed on the world and was satisfied.It watched the centuries come and go.It welcomed the sunlight, yet loved the snow.It grieved when the forest was forced to fall,Yet joyed when steeples rose, white and tall,In the valley below it, and thrilled to hearThe voice of the great town roaring near.
When the mountain stream from its idle playWas caught by the mill wheel and borne awayAnd trained to labour, the grey rock mused‘Trees and verdure and stream are usedBy Man the Master; but I remainFriend of the mountain, and star, and plain,Unchanged forever by God’s decree,While passing centuries bow to me.’
Then all unwarned, with a mighty shockOut of the mountain was wrenched the rock.Bruised and battered and broken in heart,It was carried away to the common mart,Wrecked and ruined in piece and pride.‘Oh, God is cruel,’ the granite cried,‘Comrade of mountains, of stars the friend,By all deserted, how sad my end.’
A dreaming sculptor in passing byGazed at the granite with thoughtful eye.Then stirred with a purpose supremely grandHe bade his dream in the rock expand.And lo! from the broken and shapeless massThat grieved and doubted, it came to passThat a glorious statue of priceless worthAnd infinite beauty, adorned the earth.
‘Since Sinus crossed the Milky Way,sixty thousand years have gone.’—GarrettP.Serviss.
‘Since Sinus crossed the Milky Way,sixty thousand years have gone.’—GarrettP.Serviss.
Since Sirius crossed the Milky WayFull sixty thousand years have gone,Yet hour by hour, and day by day,This tireless star speeds on and on.
Methinks he must be moved to mirthBy that droll tale of Genesis,Which says creation had its birthFor such a puny world as this.
To hear how One who fashioned allThose Solar Systems, tier on tiers,Expressed in little Adam’s fallThe purpose of a million spheres.
And, witness of the endless plan,To splendid wrath he must be wroughtBy pigmy creeds presumptuous manSends forth as God’s primeval thought.
Perchance from half a hundred starsHe hears as many curious things;From Venus, Jupiter and Mars,And Saturn with the beauteous rings,
There may be students of the CauseWho send their revelations out,And formulate their codes of laws,With heavens for faith and hells for doubt.
On planets old ere form or placeWas lent to earth, may dwell—who knows—A God-like and perfected raceThat hails great Sirius as he goes.
In zones that circle moon and sun,’Twixt world and world, he may see soulsWhose span of earthly life is done,Still journeying up to higher goals.
And on dead planets grey and coldGrim spectral souls, that harboured hateLife after life, he may beholdDescending to a darker fate.
And on his grand majestic courseHe may have caught one glorious sightOf that vast shining central SourceFrom which proceeds all Life, all Light.
Since Sirius crossed the Milky WayFull sixty thousand years have gone,No mortal man may bid him stay,No mortal man may speed him on.
No mortal mind may comprehendWhat is beyond, what was before;To God be glory without end,Let man be humble and adore.
At Fontainebleau, I saw a little bedFashioned of polished wood, with gold ornate,Ambition, hope, and sorrow, ay, and hateOnce battled there, above a childish head,And there in vain, grief wept, and memory pleadIt was so small! but Ah, dear God, how greatThe part it played in one sad woman’s fate.How wide the gloom, that narrow object shed.
The symbol of an over-reaching aim,The emblem of a devastated joy,It spoke of glory, and a blasted home:Of fleeting honours, and disordered fame,And the lone passing of a fragile boy.
* * * * *
It was the cradle of the King of Rome.
Look in the eyes of trouble with a smile,Extend your hand and do not be afraid.’Tis but a friend who comes to masquerade.And test your faith and courage for awhile.
Fly, and he follows fast with threat and jeer.Shrink, and he deals hard blow on stinging blow,But bid him welcome as a friend, and lo!The jest is off—the masque will disappear.
Is the way hard and thorny, oh, my brother?Do tempests beat, and adverse wild winds blow?And are you spent, and broken, at each nightfall,Yet with each morn you rise and onward go?Brother, I know, I know!I, too, have journeyed so.
Is your heart mad with longing, oh, my sister?Are all great passions in your breast aglow?Does the white wonder of your own soul blind you,And are you torn with rapture and with woe?Sister, I know, I know!I, too, have suffered so.
Is the road filled with snare and quicksand, pilgrim?Do pitfalls lie where roses seem to grow?And have you sometimes stumbled in the darkness,And are you bruised and scarred by many a blow?Pilgrim, I know, I know!I, too, have stumbled so.
Do you send out rebellious cry and question,As mocking hours pass silently and slow,Does your insistent ‘wherefore’ bring no answer,While stars wax pale with watching, and droop low?I, too, have questioned so,But nowI know,I know!To toil, to strive, to err, to cry, to grow,To love throughall—this is the way toknow.
When from the prison of its body free,My soul shall soar, before it goes to Thee,Thou great Creator, give it power to knowThe language of all sad, dumb things below.And let me dwell a season still on earthBefore I rise to some diviner birth:Invisible to men, yet seen and heard,And understood by sorrowing beast and bird—Invisible to men, yet always near,To whisper counsel in the human ear:And with a spell to stay the hunter’s handAnd stir his heart to know and understand;To plant within the dull or thoughtless mindThe great religious impulse to be kind.
Before I prune my spirit wings and riseTo seek my loved ones in their paradise,Yea! even before I hasten on to seeThat lost child’s face, so like a dream to me,I would be given this intermediate role,And carry comfort to each poor, dumb soul:And bridge man’s gulf of cruelty and sinBy understanding of his lower kin.’Twixt weary driver and the straining steedOn wings of mercy would my spirit speed.And each should know, before his journey’s end,That in the other dwelt a loving friend.From zoo and jungle, and from cage and stall,I would translate each inarticulate call,Each pleading look, each frenzied act and cry,And tell the story to each passer-by;And of a spirit’s privilege possessed,Pursue indifference to its couch of rest,And whisper in its ear until in aweIt woke and knew God’s all-embracing lawOf Universal Life—the One in All.
* * * * *
Lord, let this mission to my lot befall.
‘Hurry up!’No lingering by old doors of doubt—No loitering by the way,No waiting a To-morrow car,When you can board To-day.Success is somewhere down the track;Before the chance is goneAccelerate your laggard pace,Swing on, I say, swing on—Hurry up!
‘Step lively!’Belated souls are following fast,They shout and signal, ‘Wait.’Conductor Time brooks no delay,He rings the bell of Fate.But you can give the man behind,With one hand on the bar,A final chance to brook defeat,And board the moving car.Step lively!
‘Move up!’Make way for others as you sitOr stand. This crowded earthHas room for every journeying soulEn route to higher birth.Ay, room and comfort, if no oneTook double share or space,Nor let his greed and selfishnessAbsorb another’s place.Move up!
‘Hold fast!’The jolting switch of obstaclesWith jarring rails is near.Stand firm of foot, be strong of grip,Brace well and have no fear.The Maker of the Car of LifeForesaw that curve—Despair,And hung the straps of faith, and hopeSo you might grasp them there.Hold fast!
Send forth your heart’s desire, and work and wait;The opportunities of life are broughtTo our own doors, not by capricious fate,But by the strong compelling force of thought.
The wonderful age of the world I sing—The age of battery, coil and spring,Of steam, and storage, and motored thing.
Though faith may slumber and art seem dead,And all that is spoken has once been said,And all that is written were best unread;
Though hearts are iron and thoughts are steel,And all that has value is mercantile,Yet marvellous truths shall the age reveal.
Ay, greater the marvels this age shall findThan all the centuries left behind,When faith was a bigot and art was blind.
Oh, sorry the search of the world for gods,Through faith that slaughters and art that lauds,While reason sits on its throne and nods.
But out of the leisure that men will know,When the cruel things of the sad earth go,A Faith that is Knowledge shall rise and grow.
In the throb and whir of each new machineThinner is growing the veil betweenThe visible earth and the worlds unseen.
The True Religion shall leisure bring;And Art shall awaken and Love shall sing:Oh, ho! for the age of the motored thing!
Mortal:
‘The night is cold, the hour is late, the world is bleak and drear;Who is it knocking at my door?’
The New Year:
‘I am Good Cheer.’
Mortal:
‘Your voice is strange; I know you not; in shadows dark I grope.What seek you here?’
The New Year:
‘Friend, let me in; my name is Hope.’
Mortal:
‘And mine is Failure; you but mock the life you seek to bless.Pass on.’
The New Year:
‘Nay, open wide the door; I am Success.’
Mortal:
‘But I am ill and spent with pain; too late has come your wealth.I cannot use it.’
The New Year:
‘Listen, friend; I am Good Health.’
Mortal:
‘Now, wide I fling my door. Come in, and your fair statements prove.’
The New Year:
‘But you must open, too, your heart, for I am Love.’
We have outgrown the helmet and cuirass,The spear, the arrow, and the javelin.These crude inventions of a cruder age,When men killed men to show their love of God,And he who slaughtered most was greatest king.We have outgrown the need of war!Should menUnite in this one thought, all war would end.
Disarm the world; and let all Nations meetLike Men, not monsters, when disputes arise.When crossed opinions tangle into snarls,Let Courts untie them, and not armies cut.When State discussions breed dissensions, letUnion and Arbitration supersedeThe hell-created implements of War.Disarm the world! and bid destructive thoughtSlip like a serpent from the mortal mindDown through the marshes of oblivion. SoonA race of gods shall rise! Disarm! Disarm!
All wantonly in hours of joy,I made a song of pain.Soon Grief drew near, and paused to hear,And sang the sad refrain,Again and yet again.
Then recklessly in my despair,I sang of hope one day.And Joy turned back upon life’s track,And smiled, and came my way,And sat her down to stay.
Oh, a great world, a fair world, a true world I find it;A sun that never forgets to rise,On the darkest night, a star in the skies,And a God of love behind it.
Oh, a good life, a sweet life, a large life I take it,Is what He offers to you, and me;A chance to do, and a chance to be,Whatever we chose to make it.
Oh, a far way, a high way, a sure way He leads us;And if the journey at times seems long,We must trudge ahead, with a trustful song,And know at the end He needs us.
Mortal
The world is full of selfishness and greed.Lord, I would lave its sin.
Spirit
Yea, mortal, earth of thy good help has need.Go cleansethyselfwithin.
Mortal
Mine ear is hurt by harsh and evil speech.I would reform men’s ways.
Spirit
There is but one convincing way to teach.Speakthoubut words of praise.
Mortal
On every hand is wretchedness and grief,Despondency and fear.Lord, I would give my fellow men relief.
Spirit
Be, then, all hope, all cheer.
Mortal
Lord, I look outward and grow sick at heart,Such need of change I see.
Spirit
Mortal, lookin. Do thy allotted part,And leave the rest to ME.
A weed is but an unloved flower!Go dig, and prune, and guide, and wait,Until it learns its high estate,And glorifies some bower.A weed is but an unloved flower!
All sin is virtue unevolved,Release the angel from the clod—Go love thy brother up to God.Behold each problem solved.All sin is virtue unevolved.
Who is the strong? Not he who puts to testHis sinews with the strong and proves the best;But he who dwells where weaklings congregate,And never lets his splendid strength abate.
Who is the good? Not he who walks each dayWith moral men along the high, clean way;But he who jostles gilded sin and shame,Yet will not sell his honour or his name.
Who is the wise? Not he who from the startWith Wisdom’s followers has taken part;But he who looks in Folly’s tempting eyes,And turns away, perceiving her disguise.
Who is serene? Not he who flees his kind,Some mountain fastness, or some cave to find;But he who in the city’s noisiest scene,Keeps calm within—he only is serene.
Body and mind, and spirit, all combineTo make the Creature, human and divine.
Of this great trinity no part deny.Affirm, affirm, the Great Eternal I.
Affirm the body, beautiful and whole,The earth-expression of immortal soul.
Affirm the mind, the messenger of the hour,To speed between thee and the source of power.
Affirm the spirit, the Eternal I—Of this great trinity no part deny.
They stood before the Angel at the gate;The Angel asked: ‘Why should you enter in?’One said: ‘On earth my place was high and great;’And one: ‘I warned my fellow-men from sin;’Another: ‘I was teacher of the faith;I scorned my life and lived in love with death.’
And one stood silent. ‘Speak!’ the Angel said;‘What earthly deed has sent you here to-day?’‘Alas! I did but follow where they led,’He answered sadly: ‘I had lost my way—So new the country, and so strange my flight;I only sought for guidance and for light.’
‘You have no passport?’ ‘None,’ the answer came.‘I loved the earth, tho’ lowly was my lot.I strove to keep my record free from blame,And make a heaven about my humble spot.A narrow life; I see it now, too late;So, Angel, drive me from the heavenly gate.’
The Angel swung the portal wide and free,And took the sorrowing stranger by the hand.‘Nay, you alone,’ he said, ‘shall come with me,Of all this waiting and insistent band.Of what God gave, you built your paradise;Behold your mansion waiting in the skies.’
Unnumbered gods may unremembered die;A thousand creeds may perish and pass by;Yet do I lift mine eyes to ONE on high.
Unnamed be HE from whom creation came;There is no word whereby to speak His nameBut petty men have mouthed it into shame.
I lift mine eyes, and with a river’s forceMy love’s full tide goes sweeping on its courseTo that supreme and all-embracing Source.
Then back through all those thirsting channels rollThe mighty billows of the Over Soul.And I am He, the portion and the Whole.
As little streams before the flood-tide flee,As rivers vanish to become the sea,The I exists no more, for I AM HE.
Oh, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song,Or a flame, or a two-edged sword;Or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume,Or a drop of gall, is a word.
You may choose your word like a connoisseur,And polish it up with art,But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,Is the word that comes from the heart.
You may work on your word a thousand weeks,But it will not glow like oneThat all unsought, leaps forth white hot,When the fountains of feeling run.
You may hammer away on the anvil of thought,And fashion your word with care,But unless you are stirred to the depths, that wordShall die on the empty air.
For the word that comes from the brain alone,Alone to the brain will speed;But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,Oh! that is the word men heed.
Lean on no mortal, Love, and serve;(For service is love’s complement)But it was never God’s intent,Your spirit from its path should swerve,To gain another’s point of view.As well might Jupiter, or MarsGo seeking help from other stars,Instead of sweeping ON, as you.Look to the Great Eternal CauseAnd not to any man, for light.Look in; and learn the wrong, and right,From your own soul’s unwritten laws.And when you question, or demur,Let Love be your Interpreter.
If fallacies come knocking at my door,I’d rather feed, and shelter full a score,Than hide behind the black portcullis, doubt,And run the risk of barring one Truth out.
And if pretension for a time deceive,And prove me one too ready to believe,Far less my shame, than if by stubborn act,I brand as lie, some great colossal Fact.
On my soul’s door, the latch-string hangs outside;Within, the lighted candle. Let me guideSome errant follies, on their wandering way,Rather, than Wisdom give no welcoming ray.
God, what a glory, is this consciousness,Of life on life, that comes to those who seek!Nor would I, if I might, to others speak,The fulness of that knowledge. It can bless,Only the eager souls, that willing, pressAlong the mountain passes, to the peak.Not to the dull, the doubting, or the weak,Will Truth explain, or Mystery confess.
Not to the curious or impatient soulThat in the start, demands the end be shown,And at each step, stops waiting for a sign;But to the tireless toiler toward the goal,Shall the great miracles of God be knownAnd life revealed, immortal and divine.
Upon the wreckage of thy yesterdayDesign the structure of to-morrow. LayStrong corner stones of purpose, and prepareGreat blocks of wisdom, cut from past despair.Shape mighty pillars of resolve, to setDeep in the tear-wet mortar of regret.Work on with patience. Though thy toil be slow,Yet day by day the edifice shall grow.Believe in God—in thine own self believe.All that thou hast desired thou shalt achieve.
Our souls should be vessels receivingThe waters of love for relievingThe sorrows of men.
For here lies the pleasure of living:In taking God’s bounties, and givingThe gifts back again.
When the great universe was wroughtTo might and majesty from naught,The all creative force was—Thought.
That force is thine. Though desolateThe way may seem, command thy fate.Send forth thy thought—Create—Create!
Would you believe in Presences Unseen—In life beyond this earthly life?BE STILL: Be stiller yet; and listen. Set the screenOf silence at the portal of your will.Relax, and let the world go by unheard.And seal your lips with some all-sacred word.
Breathe ‘God,’ in any tongue—it means the same;LOVE ABSOLUTE: Think, feel, absorb the thought;Shut out all else; until a subtle flame(A spark from God’s creative centre caught)Shall permeate your being, and shall glow,Increasing in its splendour, till, YOU KNOW.
Not in a moment, or an hour, or dayThe knowledge comes; the power is far too great,To win in any desultory way.No soul is worthy till it learns to wait.Day after day be patient, then, oh, soul;Month after month—till, lo! the goal! the goal!
Give, and thou shalt receive. Give thoughts of cheer,Of courage and success, to friend and stranger.And from a thousand sources, far and near,Strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger.
Give words of comfort, of defence, and hope,To mortals crushed by sorrow and by error.And though thy feet through shadowy paths may grope,Thou shalt not walk in loneliness or terror.
Give of thy gold, though small thy portion be.Gold rusts and shrivels in the hand that keeps it.It grows in one that opens wide and free.Who sows his harvest is the one who reaps it.
Give of thy love, nor wait to know the worthOf what thou lovest; and ask no returning.And wheresoe’er thy pathway leads on earth,There thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning.
The leaf that ripens only in the sunIs dull and shrivelled ere its race is run.The leaf that makes a carnival of deathMust tremble first before the north wind’s breath.
The life that neither grief nor burden knowsIs dwarfed in sympathy before its close.The life that grows majestic with the yearsMust taste the bitter tonic found in tears.
Fear is the twin of Faith’s sworn foe, Distrust.If one breaks in your heart the other must.
Fear is the open enemy of Good.It means the God in man misunderstood.
Who walks with Fear adown life’s road will meetHis boon companions, Failure and Defeat.
But look the bully boldly in the eyes,With mien undaunted, and he turns and flies.
Between the finite and the infiniteThe missing link of Love has left a void.Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will joinIn one continued chain of endless life.
Hell is wherever Love is not, and HeavenIs Love’s location. No dogmatic creed,No austere faith based on ignoble fearCan lead thee into realms of joy and peace.Unless the humblest creatures on the earthAre bettered by thy loving sympathyThink not to find a Paradise beyond.
There is no sudden entrance into Heaven.Slow is the ascent by the path of Love.
I value more than I despiseMy tendency to sin,Because it helps me sympathiseWith all my tempted kin.
He who has nothing in his soulThat links him to the sod,Knows not that joy of self-controlWhich lifts him up to God.
And I am glad my heart can say,When others trip and fall(Although I safely passed that way),‘I understand it all.’
There was a thought he hid from all men’s eyes,And by his prudent life and deeds of worthHe left a goodly record upon earthAs one both pure and wise.
But when he reached a dark unsightly doorBeyond the grave, there stood his secret thought.It was the mansion he had built and broughtTo dwell in, on that shore.
An unkind tale was whispered in his ear.He paused to hear.His thoughts were food that helped a falsehood thrive,And keep alive.
Years dawned and died. One day by venom’s tongueHis name was stung.He cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawnOf thoughts long gone.
Each mental wave we send out from the mind,Or base, or kind,Completes its circuit, then with added forceSeeks its own source.
Know this, ye restless denizens of earth,Know this, ye seekers after joy and mirth,Three things there are, eternal in their worth.
Love, that outreaches to the humblest things;Work that is glad, in what it does and brings;And faith that soars upon unwearied wings.
Divine the Powers that on this trio wait.Supreme their conquest, over Time and Fate.Love, Work, and Faith—these three alone are great.
‘The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the street.’—Proverbsxxvi. 13.
‘The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the street.’—Proverbsxxvi. 13.
There are no lions in the street;No lions in the way.Go seek the goal, thou slothful soul,Awake, awake, I say.
Thou dost but dream of obstacles;In God’s great lexicon,That word illstarred, no page has marred;Press on, I say, press on.
Nothing can keep thee from thine ownBut thine own slothful mind.To one who knocks, each door unlocks;And he who seeks, shall find.
Lean on thyself until thy strength is tried;Then ask God’s help; it will not be denied.
Use thine own sight to see the way to go;When darkness falls ask God the path to show.
Think for thyself and reason out thy plan;God has His work and thou hast thine, oh, man.
Exert thy will and use it for control;God gave thee jurisdiction of thy soul.
All thine immortal powers bring into play;Think, act, strive, reason, then look up and pray.
Who climbs the mountain does not always climb.The winding road slants downward many a time;Yet each descent is higher than the last.Has thy path fallen? That will soon be past.Beyond the curve the way leads up and on.Think not thy goal forever lost or gone.Keep moving forward; if thine aim is rightThou canst not miss the shining mountain height.Who would attain to summits still and fair,Must nerve himself through valleys of despair.
(Suggested by the book of Mr. Ed. C. Randall.)
‘There is no death, there are no dead.’From zone to zone, from sphere to sphere,The souls of all who pass from hereBy hosts of living thoughts are led;And dark or bright, those souls must treadThe paths they fashioned year on year.For hells are built of hate or fear,And heavens of love our lives have shed.
Across unatlassed worlds of space,And through God’s mighty universe,With thoughts that bless or thoughts that curse,Each journeys to his rightful place.Oh, greater truth no man has said,‘There is no death, there are no dead.’
It lifts the mourner from the sod,And bids him cast away the reedOf some uncomforting poor creed,And walk with Knowledge for a rod.It bids the doubter seek the broadVast fields, where living facts will feedAll those whose patience proves their needOf these immortal truths of God.
It brings before the eyes of faithThose realms of radiance, tier on tier,Where our beloved ‘dead’ appear,More beautiful because of ‘death.’It speaks to grief: ‘Be comforted;There is no death, there are no dead.’
Hers was a lonely, shadowed lot;Or so the unperceiving thought,Who looked no deeper than her face,Devoid of chiselled lines of grace—No farther than her humble grate,And wondered how she bore her fate.
Yet she was neither lone nor sad;So much of love her spirit had,She found an ever-flowing springOf happiness in everything.
So near to her was Nature’s heartIt seemed a very living partOf her own self; and bud and blade,And heat and cold, and sun and shade,And dawn and sunset, Spring and Fall,Held raptures for her, one and all.
The year’s four changing seasons broughtTo her own door what thousands soughtIn wandering ways and did not find—Diversion and content of mind.
She loved the tasks that filled each day—Such menial duties; but her wayOf looking at them lent a graceTo things the world deemed commonplace.
Obscure and without place or name,She gloried in another’s fame.Poor, plain and humble in her dress,She thrilled when beauty and successAnd wealth passed by, on pleasure bent;They made earth seem so opulent.Yet none of quicker sympathy,When need or sorrow came, than she.And so she lived, and so she died.
She woke as from a dream. How wideAnd wonderful the avenueThat stretched to her astonished view!And up the green ascending lawnA palace caught the rays of dawn.
Then suddenly the silence stirredWith one clear keynote of a bird;A thousand answered, till ere longThe air was quivering bits of song.She rose and wandered forth in awe,Amazed and moved by all she saw,For, like so many souls who goAway from earth, she did not knowThe cord was severed.
Down the street,With eager arms stretched forth to greet,Came one she loved and mourned in youth;Her mother followed; then the truthBroke on her, golden wave on wave,Of knowledge infinite. The grave,The body and the earthly sphereWere gone! Immortal life was here!They led her through the Palace halls;From gleaming mirrors on the wallsShe saw herself, with radiant mien,And robed in splendour like a queen,While glory round about her shone.‘All this,’ Love murmured, ‘is your own.’
And when she gazed with wondering eye,And questioned whence and where and why,Love answered thus: ‘All Heaven is madeBy thoughts on earth; your walls were laid,Year after year, of purest gold;The beauty of your mind beholdIn this fair palace; ay, and moreWaits farther on, so vast your store.I was not worthy when I diedTo take my place here at your side;I toiled through long and weary yearsFrom lower planes to these high spheres;And through the love you sent from earthI have attained a second birth.Oft when my erring soul would tireI felt the strength of your desire;I heard you breathe my name in prayer,And courage conquered weak despair.Ah! earth needs heaven, but heaven indeedOf earth has just as great a need.’
Across the terrace with a boundThere sped a lambkin and a hound(Dumb comrades of the old earth land)And fondled her caressing hand.
‘YOU LOVED THEM INTO PARADISE’Was answered to her questioning eyes;‘You taught them love; love has no end!Nor does love’s life on form depend.If there be mortal without love,He wakes to no new life above.If love in humbler things exist,It must through other realms persistUntil all love rays merge in HIM.Hark! Hear the heavenly Cherubim!’
Then hushed and awed, with joy so vastIt knew no future and no past,She stood amidst the radiant throngThat came to swell love’s welcoming song—This humble soul from earth’s far coastThe centre of the heavenly host.
On earth they see her grave and say:‘She lies there till the judgment day;’Nor dream, so limited their thought,What miracles by love are wrought.