The vast and cold expanse of boundless spaceWhere worlds, revolving in a ceaseless race,Are born in fire, and slowly grow to prime,Then cool to death in aeon’s endless time:In space so vast could seeds of life surviveAnd reach another younger world alive,If wafted, dustwise, from a world grown old,Whilst lulled to deathless sleep by freezing cold?Or,Sunk in a meteor, hurling through space,Flung from a broken star on its mad race;Hurling through space ever heading for earth,Rider momentous! hold fast to your berth,Cling to your crevace in meteor’s side,Life of a planet depends on this ride!Last of one world, to be first of another,Germ most amazing, of all germs the mother,Strengthen yourself, for your luminous steedGenerates heat from his furious speed,Strengthen yourself to withstand the fierce jar,When the swift meteor, rushing from far,Dashes in frenzy, indenting the earth,Shaking you free from your perilous berth.Then,Feeding on water and warmed by the sun,Germ of all living, where life there was none,Energy gaining, dividing in twain,Wonders and wonders will come in their train.Life on this planet is now well begun,Ever evolving, its course it must runTill at length man can commune with his mate,Looking to God to explain his strange fate.For,Even if true, there is ever the whence?The why? the how?God of all Mystery! God of all Truth!To Thee, we bow!
The vast and cold expanse of boundless spaceWhere worlds, revolving in a ceaseless race,Are born in fire, and slowly grow to prime,Then cool to death in aeon’s endless time:In space so vast could seeds of life surviveAnd reach another younger world alive,If wafted, dustwise, from a world grown old,Whilst lulled to deathless sleep by freezing cold?Or,Sunk in a meteor, hurling through space,Flung from a broken star on its mad race;Hurling through space ever heading for earth,Rider momentous! hold fast to your berth,Cling to your crevace in meteor’s side,Life of a planet depends on this ride!Last of one world, to be first of another,Germ most amazing, of all germs the mother,Strengthen yourself, for your luminous steedGenerates heat from his furious speed,Strengthen yourself to withstand the fierce jar,When the swift meteor, rushing from far,Dashes in frenzy, indenting the earth,Shaking you free from your perilous berth.Then,Feeding on water and warmed by the sun,Germ of all living, where life there was none,Energy gaining, dividing in twain,Wonders and wonders will come in their train.Life on this planet is now well begun,Ever evolving, its course it must runTill at length man can commune with his mate,Looking to God to explain his strange fate.For,Even if true, there is ever the whence?The why? the how?God of all Mystery! God of all Truth!To Thee, we bow!
The vast and cold expanse of boundless spaceWhere worlds, revolving in a ceaseless race,Are born in fire, and slowly grow to prime,Then cool to death in aeon’s endless time:In space so vast could seeds of life surviveAnd reach another younger world alive,If wafted, dustwise, from a world grown old,Whilst lulled to deathless sleep by freezing cold?
Or,
Sunk in a meteor, hurling through space,Flung from a broken star on its mad race;Hurling through space ever heading for earth,Rider momentous! hold fast to your berth,Cling to your crevace in meteor’s side,Life of a planet depends on this ride!Last of one world, to be first of another,Germ most amazing, of all germs the mother,Strengthen yourself, for your luminous steedGenerates heat from his furious speed,Strengthen yourself to withstand the fierce jar,When the swift meteor, rushing from far,Dashes in frenzy, indenting the earth,Shaking you free from your perilous berth.
Then,
Feeding on water and warmed by the sun,Germ of all living, where life there was none,Energy gaining, dividing in twain,Wonders and wonders will come in their train.Life on this planet is now well begun,Ever evolving, its course it must runTill at length man can commune with his mate,Looking to God to explain his strange fate.
For,
Even if true, there is ever the whence?The why? the how?God of all Mystery! God of all Truth!To Thee, we bow!
In the eveningMysteries come creeping into our garden,And the slanting beams of the settling sunEnhance, by their mellowing glow,The loveliness of trees and lawns and flowers.The weeds now have their hour of beauty,The dying cedar hedge is fashioned of golden tissue,The falling apple blossoms are fairy butterflies,And the peace of GodEnfolds the troubled heart of man!As the evening of life draws on,Memory, the wonder worker, casts her magic spellOver the past, with its strivings and failures,Its sorrows and hardships,Mingling them with its joys and successes,Till “the good old days” become as perfectAs our garden,In the twilight hour!
In the eveningMysteries come creeping into our garden,And the slanting beams of the settling sunEnhance, by their mellowing glow,The loveliness of trees and lawns and flowers.The weeds now have their hour of beauty,The dying cedar hedge is fashioned of golden tissue,The falling apple blossoms are fairy butterflies,And the peace of GodEnfolds the troubled heart of man!As the evening of life draws on,Memory, the wonder worker, casts her magic spellOver the past, with its strivings and failures,Its sorrows and hardships,Mingling them with its joys and successes,Till “the good old days” become as perfectAs our garden,In the twilight hour!
In the eveningMysteries come creeping into our garden,And the slanting beams of the settling sunEnhance, by their mellowing glow,The loveliness of trees and lawns and flowers.The weeds now have their hour of beauty,The dying cedar hedge is fashioned of golden tissue,The falling apple blossoms are fairy butterflies,And the peace of GodEnfolds the troubled heart of man!
As the evening of life draws on,Memory, the wonder worker, casts her magic spellOver the past, with its strivings and failures,Its sorrows and hardships,Mingling them with its joys and successes,Till “the good old days” become as perfectAs our garden,In the twilight hour!
The silver birch, on the mountain top, laughed for sheer joy of being alive!
She looked down on the valley and saw the peaceful farms and the green meadow, where man’s only labour was driving a ball from hole to hole, and beyond she saw the gentle slopes of wooded hills and the pure gold of the setting sun and she was happy, for was not all this created just for her!
So she laughed, and every leaf fluttered for joy!
The Flower of Happiness grows in the fields of the Poor and in the gardens of the Rich and may be gathered by all who want it and have the will to reach for it. It hangs high up on the Tree of Life though, and many never see it at all. They are so busy digging for gold or weeping over graves, they forget to look up. Even amongst those who do see it many are afraid to pluck it, fearing its beauty and fragrance might injure their souls. Others strive for it; but the rock, on which they stand, is so overlaid with greed and lust that, when the Flower is within their reach, they slip, clutching but a broken stalk.
A few only, with their feet firmly planted on the plane of moderation and their faces turned towards God, gather this wondrous Flower. At moments it may wilt; but the trueFlower always revives, and whiffs of its sweetness go to gladden many hearts as they, who have plucked it, walk amongst their fellow-men.
A man of mature years and thoughtful mien was slowly ascending the mountain slopes when he met the good minister, with prayer book under arm, on his way to church.
“My dear sir,” said the latter, “your steps have passed the House of God, and this the Sabbath morn!”
The other answered: “The house of man, you mean. I go to the House of God, the mountain top, with its foundation of finite rock and its roof of infinite space; and there, from the finite my soul aspires to the infinite, from sin to perfection, from the known to the ideal, from disorder to harmony, from man to God.”
“This too, I preach,” said the good minister.
“And so do the Rabbi, the Brahman and the priests of the many religions and sects of this world,” replied the other. “But each explains the great mystery in his own way andthe many ways confuse me and so, as alone I must one day meet my God, alone now I seek Him on the mountain top.”
“Let not our many ways trouble you,” said the good minister, with a kindly smile. “If you really have our common goal in your heart, you need not climb to the mountain top to find the House of God; because then you will know it is everywhere, as God is everywhere!”
A lovable and beautiful maid was Charity, yet withal thoughtless and somewhat vain. She was admired and “God-blessed” by all men, for what beggar did she ever repulse! And for each coin she dropped into a beggar’s hand, what treasure was she not storing up for herself in the wonderful kingdom to come!
But some of the beggars began to whisper among themselves that it was not fair that she should receive such great reward for doing so very little, and that the scattered coins vanished almost as soon as they touched their outstretched hands, and that misery was everywhere.
At last these murmurings reached Charity herself and they bewildered her. So she looked more closely at the beggars and she saw here a blind one, there a lame one, and many, many who were sick and weary, and her heart was touched. So she came down from her pedestaland soothed and comforted the needy, even finding cures for a few of them. Now she was admired and loved more than ever, and greater than ever she felt was that future reward she was heaping up for herself.
But some of the beggars again began to whisper that everything was not right, that perhaps after all it was not Charity they wanted, and again Charity heard, and she looked at the beggars yet more closely and she found in every face the promise of something better, if she could but reach it. So she called all the Sciences and all the Arts to her aid and for long they communed together. Then the Sciences and the Arts went to work, accompanied by a sweet and perfect Charity, who now sought her only reward in her power to serve and to love, and they found the roots of the many evils that beset the world and one by one they destroyed them.
No angry whisperings now, no gruesome beggars more; but soft laughter and willing helpers everywhere abound.