Unhoused in deserts of accepted thought,
   And lost in jungles of confusing creeds,
   My soul strayed, homeless, finding its own needs
Unsatisfied 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.

And this dear heaven I set within my heart,
   And carried it about with me alway,
   And then the changing dogmas of the day
Seemed alien to my thoughts and held no part.

Now as I take my heaven from place to place
   I find new rooms by love’s revealing light,
   And death will give me but a larger sight
To 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 blunder
   Of dotard Time, in an aimless race.
With worry about me and want before me—
   Yet deep in my soul was a rapture spring
That 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 duty
   While cold and starving, though clothed and fed,
For a young heart’s hunger for joy and beauty
   Is 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 I know, too, that not in the seeing,
   Or having, or doing the things we would,
Lies that deep rapture that comes from being
   At one with the Purpose which made all good.
And not from Pleasure the heart may borrow
   That rare contentment for which we strive,
Unless through trouble, and want, and sorrow
   It 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 believe
Each 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 din
Your silent declarations shall be heard.
   All things are possible to God’s own kin.

Talk not of strength, until your heart has known
And fought with weakness through long hours alone.

Talk not of virtue, till your conquering soul
Has 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 side
Gazed 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 hear
The voice of the great town roaring near.

When the mountain stream from its idle play
Was caught by the mill wheel and borne away
And trained to labour, the grey rock mused
‘Trees and verdure and stream are used
By Man the Master; but I remain
Friend of the mountain, and star, and plain,
Unchanged forever by God’s decree,
While passing centuries bow to me.’

A dreaming sculptor in passing by
Gazed at the granite with thoughtful eye.
Then stirred with a purpose supremely grand
He bade his dream in the rock expand.
And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass
That grieved and doubted, it came to pass
That a glorious statue of priceless worth
And infinite beauty, adorned the earth.

‘Since Sinus crossed the Milky Way, sixty thousand years have gone.’—Garrett P. Serviss.

Since Sirius crossed the Milky Way
   Full 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 mirth
   By that droll tale of Genesis,
Which says creation had its birth
   For such a puny world as this.

To hear how One who fashioned all
   Those Solar Systems, tier on tiers,
Expressed in little Adam’s fall
   The purpose of a million spheres.

Perchance from half a hundred stars
   He hears as many curious things;
From Venus, Jupiter and Mars,
   And Saturn with the beauteous rings,

There may be students of the Cause
   Who send their revelations out,
And formulate their codes of laws,
   With heavens for faith and hells for doubt.

On planets old ere form or place
   Was lent to earth, may dwell—who knows—
A God-like and perfected race
   That hails great Sirius as he goes.

In zones that circle moon and sun,
   ’Twixt world and world, he may see souls
Whose span of earthly life is done,
   Still journeying up to higher goals.

And on his grand majestic course
   He may have caught one glorious sight
Of that vast shining central Source
   From which proceeds all Life, all Light.

Since Sirius crossed the Milky Way
   Full sixty thousand years have gone,
No mortal man may bid him stay,
   No mortal man may speed him on.

No mortal mind may comprehend
   What is beyond, what was before;
To God be glory without end,
   Let man be humble and adore.

At Fontainebleau, I saw a little bed
Fashioned of polished wood, with gold ornate,
Ambition, hope, and sorrow, ay, and hate
Once battled there, above a childish head,
And there in vain, grief wept, and memory plead
   It was so small! but Ah, dear God, how great
   The 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.

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 now I know, I know!
To toil, to strive, to err, to cry, to grow,
To love through all—this is the way to know.

When from the prison of its body free,
My soul shall soar, before it goes to Thee,
Thou great Creator, give it power to know
The language of all sad, dumb things below.
And let me dwell a season still on earth
Before 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 hand
And stir his heart to know and understand;
To plant within the dull or thoughtless mind
The great religious impulse to be kind.

* * * * *

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 gone
Accelerate your laggard pace,
   Swing on, I say, swing on—
      Hurry up!

      ‘Move up!’
Make way for others as you sit
   Or stand.  This crowded earth
Has room for every journeying soul
   En route to higher birth.
Ay, room and comfort, if no one
   Took double share or space,
Nor let his greed and selfishness
   Absorb another’s place.
      Move up!

      ‘Hold fast!’
The jolting switch of obstacles
   With jarring rails is near.
Stand firm of foot, be strong of grip,
   Brace well and have no fear.
The Maker of the Car of Life
   Foresaw that curve—Despair,
And hung the straps of faith, and hope
   So you might grasp them there.
      Hold fast!

Send forth your heart’s desire, and work and wait;
The opportunities of life are brought
To 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 find
Than 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.

In the throb and whir of each new machine
Thinner is growing the veil between
The 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.’

   ‘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 men
Unite in this one thought, all war would end.

Disarm the world; and let all Nations meet
Like 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, let
Union and Arbitration supersede
The hell-created implements of War.
Disarm the world! and bid destructive thought
Slip like a serpent from the mortal mind
Down through the marshes of oblivion.  Soon
A 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 cleanse thyself within.

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.
Speak thou but words of praise.

Mortal

On every hand is wretchedness and grief,
Despondency and fear.
Lord, I would give my fellow men relief.

Be, then, all hope, all cheer.

Mortal

Lord, I look outward and grow sick at heart,
Such need of change I see.

Spirit

Mortal, look in.  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 test
His 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 day
With 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 start
With 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 combine
To 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.’

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 name
But petty men have mouthed it into shame.

I lift mine eyes, and with a river’s force
My love’s full tide goes sweeping on its course
To that supreme and all-embracing Source.

Then back through all those thirsting channels roll
The 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 one
That 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 word
   Shall die on the empty air.

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 Mars
Go seeking help from other stars,
Instead of sweeping ON, as you.
Look to the Great Eternal Cause
And 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 guide
Some 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, press
Along 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 soul
That 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 known
And life revealed, immortal and divine.

Upon the wreckage of thy yesterday
Design the structure of to-morrow.  Lay
Strong corner stones of purpose, and prepare
Great blocks of wisdom, cut from past despair.
Shape mighty pillars of resolve, to set
Deep 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 receiving
The waters of love for relieving
      The sorrows of men.

For here lies the pleasure of living:
In taking God’s bounties, and giving
      The gifts back again.

When the great universe was wrought
To might and majesty from naught,
The all creative force was—
         Thought.

That force is thine.  Though desolate
The 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 screen
   Of 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.

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 worth
   Of 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 sun
Is dull and shrivelled ere its race is run.
The leaf that makes a carnival of death
Must tremble first before the north wind’s breath.

The life that neither grief nor burden knows
Is dwarfed in sympathy before its close.
The life that grows majestic with the years
Must 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 meet
His 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 infinite
The missing link of Love has left a void.
Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join
In one continued chain of endless life.

Hell is wherever Love is not, and Heaven
Is Love’s location.  No dogmatic creed,
No austere faith based on ignoble fear
Can lead thee into realms of joy and peace.
Unless the humblest creatures on the earth
Are bettered by thy loving sympathy
Think 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 despise
   My tendency to sin,
Because it helps me sympathise
   With all my tempted kin.

He who has nothing in his soul
   That links him to the sod,
Knows not that joy of self-control
   Which 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 worth
He left a goodly record upon earth
As one both pure and wise.

But when he reached a dark unsightly door
Beyond the grave, there stood his secret thought.
It was the mansion he had built and brought
To 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 tongue
   His name was stung.
He cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawn
   Of thoughts long gone.

Each mental wave we send out from the mind,
   Or base, or kind,
Completes its circuit, then with added force
   Seeks 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.’—Proverbs xxvi. 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 own
   But 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 right
Thou 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 here
By hosts of living thoughts are led;
And dark or bright, those souls must tread
   The 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 brings before the eyes of faith
   Those 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 spring
Of happiness in everything.

So near to her was Nature’s heart
It seemed a very living part
Of 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.

She loved the tasks that filled each day—
Such menial duties; but her way
Of looking at them lent a grace
To 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 success
And 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 wide
And wonderful the avenue
That stretched to her astonished view!
And up the green ascending lawn
A palace caught the rays of dawn.

         Down the street,
With eager arms stretched forth to greet,
Came one she loved and mourned in youth;
Her mother followed; then the truth
Broke on her, golden wave on wave,
Of knowledge infinite.  The grave,
The body and the earthly sphere
Were gone!  Immortal life was here!
They led her through the Palace halls;
From gleaming mirrors on the walls
She 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.’

Across the terrace with a bound
There sped a lambkin and a hound
(Dumb comrades of the old earth land)
And fondled her caressing hand.

Then hushed and awed, with joy so vast
It knew no future and no past,
She stood amidst the radiant throng
That came to swell love’s welcoming song—
This humble soul from earth’s far coast
The 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.