Part 13

I asked an Angel, looking down on earth with gaze intent, How man should rise to larger growth. Quoth he, ‘Through discontent.’

AWAKENED!

Slowly the People waken; they have been, Like weary soldiers, sleeping in their tents, While traitors tiptoed through the silent camp Intent on plunder. Suddenly a sound— A careless movement of too bold a thief— Starts one dull sleeper; then another stirs, A third cries out a warning, and at last The people are awake! Oh, when as one The many rise, united and alert, With Justice for their motto, they reflect The mighty force of God’s Omnipotence. And nothing stands before them. Lusty Greed, Tyrannical Corruption long in power, And smirking Cant (whose right hand robs and slays So that the left may dower Church and School), Monopoly, whose mandate took from Toil The Mother Earth, that Idleness might loll And breed the Monster of Colossal Wealth— All these must fall before the gathering Force Of public indignation. That old strife Which marks the progress of each century, The war of Right with Might, is on once more, And shame to him who does not take his stand.

This is the weightiest moment of all time, And on the issues of the present hour A nation’s honour and a country’s peace, A People’s future, ay, a World’s, depends.

Until the vital questions of the day Are solved and settled, and the spendthrift thieves Who rob the coffers of the saving poor Are led from fashion’s feasts to prison fare, And taught the saving grace of honest work— Till Labour claims the privilege of toil And toil the proceeds of its labour shares— Let no man sleep, let no man dare to sleep!

SHADOWS

I am sorry in the gladness Of the joys that crown my days, For the souls that sit in sadness Or walk uninviting ways.

On the radiance of my labour That a loving fate bestowed, Falls the shadow of my neighbour, Crushed beneath a thankless load.

As the canticle of pleasure From my lovelit altar rolls, There is one discordant measure, As I think of homeless souls.

And I know that grim old story, Preached from pulpits, is not so, For no God could sit in glory And see sinners writhe below.

In that great eternal Centre Where all human life has birth, Boundless love and pity enter And flow downward to the earth.

And all souls in sin or sorrow Are but passing through the night, And I know on some to-morrow God will love them into light.

THE NEW COMMANDMENT

‘Let go the Cross’—GERTRUDE RUNSHON.

I heard a strange voice in the distance calling As from a star an echo might be falling.

It spoke four syllables, concise and brief, Charged with a God-sent message of relief:

Let go the cross! Oh, you who cling to sorrow, Hark to the new command and comfort borrow.

Even as the Master left His cross below And rose to Paradise, let go, let go.

Forget your wrongs, your troubles and your losses, For with the tools of thought we build our crosses.

Forget your griefs, all grudges and all fear And enter Paradise—its gates are near.

Heaven is a realm by loving souls created, And hell was fashioned by the hearts that hated.

Love, hope and trust; believe all joys are yours, Life pays the soul whose confidence endures,

The blows of adverse fate, by larger pleasures, As after storms the soil yields fuller measures.

Let go the cross; roll self—the stone—away And dwell with Love in Paradise to-day.

SUMMER DREAMS

When the Summer sun is shining, And the green things push and grow, Oft my heart runs over measure, With its flowing fount of pleasure, As I feel the sea winds blow; Ah, then life is good, I know.

And I think of sweet birds building, And of children fair and free; And of glowing sun-kissed meadows, And of tender twilight shadows, And of boats upon the sea. Oh, then life seems good to me!

Then unbidden and unwanted, Come the darker, sadder sights; City shop and stifling alley, Where misfortune’s children rally; And the hot crime-breeding nights, And the dearth of God’s delights.