Part 3
When once is gained his liberty, Each day new joys to meet, He looks not back to prison home, His freedom is so sweet.
No morsel giv’n, no word of love Will tempt him back to cage. Though he may often lack for food, He now hath freedom’s wage.
And so with soul, when once ’tis free, It sings sweet notes of joy; Loud hallelujahs will send forth, In them is no alloy.
When once the soul escapes its bonds To soar above the stars, Has broken chains, and freedom gained, It ne’er goes back to bars.
It soars aloft, a happy soul, E’en to bright heaven’s dome. Emancipated it is now From narrow gilded home.
* * * * *
Then soul be free from error’s chain, And break the bars that bind You to your prison cell so dark; Then freedom you will find.
No more you’ll sup on prison food, Contented with a crumb That falls to you from gaoler’s hand, To truth forever dumb.
When once the soul its prison leaves, It finds such sweet relief In knowing that the truth it hath, Instead of a belief.
REVERIE.
I am sitting in the gloaming, Sipping honey from Life’s flowers; Gathering sweetness for the future; I will store it in Love’s bowers.
Nothing bitter will I gather To confront me by and by. Though dark clouds are overhanging, Shining is the sun in sky.
All the little clouds, and shadows I will drive from out my heart; For I love the sunshine better, From no sunbeam will I part.
Though the raindrops may be falling, Though the day is dark and drear; It will clear before Life’s evening, And Life’s sun again appear.
A MOHAMMEDAN’S PRAYER.
Thou art Allah, God divine, And we bow before Thy shrine. Humbly bend to Thee in prayer. Thou my God art everywhere.
Thou hast willed th’ stars into space, Everywhere we see Thy face. In sidereal spaces grand Worlds were fashioned by Thy hand.
Thou art Maker, Ruler, King; Of Thy praises we will sing. Allah great, O Allah good! By Thy side we once have stood.
We are part of Thee, O Lord, Though we sprang from ’neath the sod. By Thy side we still would stand, Guided by Thy loving hand.
There couldst never heaven be But for immortality. Thou dost need our helping hand Even in Thy heavenly land.
Man was fashioned from the dust, But his soul doth in Thee trust; And will rise to Thee at last, Not forgetting though, its past.
Man, from ages hath come down, And in future Thou wilt crown Him immortal, part of Thee; Absorbed in Love, in Deity.
NATURE’S PLAN.
I am a part of Nature’s plan, A part of her great work; And incomplete would be all life Should I my duty shirk.
I am a thread in Nature’s web, If stitch is dropped by me, The fabric most imperfect is, Will not accepted be.
I am a stone the builder needs, No other stone will do; Nor structure ever finished be For naught will do in lieu.
For I was fitted for the place, Was taken from the earth, And cut to fill this vacancy, E’en at my very birth.
There is a leaf in Nature’s book That is reserved for me, And I must write my name thereon, No blank in book must be.
I am a drop in Life’s great sea. A drop seems very small; But drops of water, grains of sand Are worthy of God’s call.
I am a little candle light That throws its beams--not far, Yet lighting up the space around E’en as a little star.
I may be but a common weed, But weeds, in time, are flowers, And are a part of Nature’s plan To beautify God’s bowers.
THE SUNBEAM’S WOOING.
A fickle sunbeam fell in love With a little flower; He scattered sunshine in her path, And tarried in her bower.
The little flower returned his love, Her heart was filled with pride To be the chosen flower of love; To be the sun-god’s bride.
For bridal robe on wedding day She chose her richest gown, And donned a veil of sunshine bright, And dew-drops for her crown.
Then up the aisle of sunbeams swept, A queen of beauty she. The sunbeam never brighter was. In gorgeous dress was he.
Most proud he was of his fair bride, So beautiful, and pure; And thought, as he had found his mate, His love would aye endure.
But sunbeams are not always true. In glancing round one day, He saw another little flower, And by her wished to stay.
His chosen bride deprived of love, Soon faded, withered, died. A poor forsaken flower of earth For love now vainly cried.
Alas for her! His love had cooled; He hid behind a cloud. He hid his face from his first love Her bridal veil was shroud.
THE PROGRESSION OF THE ROSE.
The rose, when born, was purest white, And of her beauty never thought. The sun began to smile on her, Then a great change in her was wrought.
The sun looked down admiringly. She of her beauty ’gan to think; Some one in passing, gave her praise, And she then blushed a rosy pink.
The moss-rose next sprang into life, With beauty rare, and fragrance sweet. So modest was this little rose, The public gaze she feared to meet.
She was so timid, and so shy, She hid her face in veil of green; It was a crown of beauty rare, More beautiful had never queen.
She longed though for companionship. She wished full oft to tell her woes. So chose a mate among the flowers, And then became a bridal rose.
She now ambitious was to rise, And with disdain looked on the earth; She then sent many tendrils out, And then the climbing rose had birth.
She now was filled with greatest pride, And struggled hard to reach the skies, But Nature sent her edict forth That she no higher e’er should rise.
The rose with anger now was filled, For glancing down upon her bed, She saw a worm coiled ’mong her roots, And then she turned an angry red.
And now was born the bright red rose, And though its beauty came from hate. No one disputes its right to reign A royal queen in regal state.
ALL LIFE HATH SOUL.
The running brook is never straight; A pebble oft will change its course; A tiny twig, a little sand Is oft to it sufficient force To send it dancing on its way To reach its home, the sparkling sea. So with our lives, from birth to death, We’re struggling ever to be free.
A little word, a little thought Will change our course, will change our way. For life doth run in devious paths, E’en tiny twig it must obey. Alas! Our soul wings have been bound, Or we would soar beyond the clouds; And know the destiny of man, And why a pall his life enshrouds.
We’re reaching up to even God.-- For we would know life’s meaning now; Free from the shard that binds our thoughts, And if with soul, God doth endow The lower animals as we. And if all life hath mind, hath soul? Whatever God hath made, hath life, And mind doth ever life control.
All living things; the trees, the flowers, The ocean, mountain, and the sea; The pebbles on the ocean beach, And also grass upon the lea.-- We are as sand upon Life’s hill, And but as grass, we live and grow, “Tomorrow in the oven cast;” For Death each day the grass doth mow.
IT MATTERS NOT.
What matters it what we may think, Or what is our belief; ’Tis worthless straw thrashed o’er and o’er, No wheat is in the sheaf.
’Tis what we _are_, ’tis what we _do_ That makes of life a song. We may believe that black is white, And though we are quite wrong:
It matters little to the world; For we are as a drop Of water in Life’s ocean broad; Life’s tide will never stop
To see if we are in our place, Or what we mean to do; It comes, and goes without our help, Would not our death e’en rue.
We are of little consequence, Although perhaps we think The world would be a barren waste, If we perchance should sink
Beneath the waves of Life’s great sea. Or on its shores be tossed. But not a ripple would there be E’en though our lives were lost.
The world would e’er go on the same. Life’s tides would come and go; Regardless of our happiness, Regardless of our woe.
And yet we have our little place, That little place is ours. None other could our life work do, Nor pluck for us Life’s flowers.
“WHAT IS MAN THAT THOU ART MINDFUL OF HIM?”
O man with all thy knowledge, Dost know what brought thee here? Dost know the law of living? To die is not more drear Than living on uncertain Of what the future state. Is death annihilation? Is it to be our fate?
O th’ myst’ry of our coming! From what were we evolved? O th’ myst’ry of our going! Will it be ever solved? We’re filled with dark forebodings, We know not what our end. Is there a power that governs? If so, we to it bend.
Shall we e’er know the myst’ries, The problems that we meet At every stage of living; With fear we e’er them greet. What may be in the future? The present we deplore. The past hath been a failure, With shadows e’er before.
An angel heard my questions, And sorrowed at my fears. “O know that God is mindful Of man; though it appears That man is aye complaining, Not trusting to the Power That gave to him existence, And blessings on him shower.”
“AS A MAN THINKETH SO IS HE.”
So think no evil, if not evil thou wouldst be, For as thou thinkest, so wilt thou e’en be. If hate thou thinkest, hate will thee control. If love thou thinkest, love will fill thy soul.
If seeking ill, ill in thy friend thou’lt find. If seeking good, to good thou wilt him bind. Instead of seeking in thy friend for sin, O turn a retrospective glance within.
For what thou seekest thou wilt surely find, For good, or evil is in thine own mind. For as thou thinkest, thou wilt surely be Then seek for good, and happier thou wilt be.
Mayhap thy friends may evil think of thee, Then look within, and shocked thou mayest be At thine own faults, and then some good may’st see In friend or foe, whichever he may be.
Before thou censurest friend, it doth behoove Thee to correct thyself; thy ways improve. Thou’lt find thyself no better than thy friend, And thinking good, thy conduct will amend.
Love’s search-light turn upon thy bitterest foe, And thou mayst find in him such utter woe That all thy anger mayst then turn to love, And gentle be thy thoughts as gentlest dove.
And thou shouldst study self with greatest care; Though heart mayst seem most pure, some fault is there. The faults in others, thou shouldst aye condone, If thou art perfect, thou mayst cast a stone.
MY GUESTS.
Cold Wisdom was a guest of mine; But Pleasure came one day, And she, with almost fiendish glee Drove Wisdom far away.
I tried to call chill Wisdom back; Alas! it was too late. She never could an entrance gain With Pleasure at my gate.
And so with recklessness I gave Myself to Pleasure’s call. She led me such a merry chase, I soon seemed past recall.
Then Pleasure seemed to tire of me, And left me worn, distraught. She left me for a fresher field, And never gave one thought
To me, nor to my previous life; She’d other things to do; For she had other lives to wreck, Had work in pastures new.
For Pleasure has no conscience e’er. She cares not who may fall So long as she doth have her way, Her victims to enthrall.
One need not treat her with disdain, Nor drive her far away. She often is a welcome guest, If Wisdom too doth stay.
Companions they may even be. Though ’tis not always wise For Pleasure to take foremost rank, Though decked in royal guise.
GOD IS EVERYWHERE.
God guides us o’er the barren wilds, And o’er the waters still; He guides us in all walks of life If we but do His will.
Is with us in the sunshine bright, And in the falling rain; And God is in the pastures green, And in the growing grain.
And He is in the fragrant flower, And in the smallest weed; Is in our every thought, and act, Is in our every deed.
He dwells upon the mountains high, He dwells upon the lea; He made, and rules the ocean grand. He dwells upon the sea.
Through ignorance we oftimes sin, God loves us though we fall; He helps us to arise again, Does ever on us call.
’Tis vain to mourn, ’tis vain to weep, And we should feel, should know That life is not a funeral dirge, That life is not all woe.
And we must live for others’ weal; Of evil e’er beware. And we must love, and we must trust; For God is everywhere.
DEAD HOPES.
When Love was young, and in his prime, And in deception not yet skilled, I found that guile was in his heart, E’en as with saw-dust dolls were filled.
Alas! Though sad the lesson was, And with the deepest misery fraught; The lesson has not been in vain, Though ’tis experience dearly bought.
I had a loved, and trusted friend, But when I found she was untrue, I plucked her image from my heart; No more for friendship will I sue.
Today Love pleads to me in vain; For nevermore shall I him trust. When once deception comes to us, Dead hopes henceforth are only dust.
BURIED HOPES.
I found a slight flaw in a diamond, And now it is worthless to me; Though the gem is as brilliant as ever, Henceforth ’tis the flaw I shall see.
I had a dear friend most enticing, Her life seemed so pure unto me; I found a slight fault in her living, That fault evermore I shall see.
I stood by the grave of a loved one, The world seemed so drear, and so cold; No hope in my heart, and the future No promise of peace did unfold.
I had a belief in my girlhood, Essential it seemed unto me; But now my belief seems a phantom; From bigotry now I am free.
Alas for the hopes of our childhood; They blossom, then wither and die, Are buried full deep in Love’s coffin; The grave is so cold where they lie.
We cherish our hopes for a moment, A will-o’-the-wisp they oft are, Dark phantoms eluding us ever, And often our lives they will mar.
I seek for the _truths_, and _truth_ only. All error henceforth I decry, And hid in the grave of oblivion Full deep in that grave must e’er lie.
LOVE’S MESSAGE.
I sent thee a message my darling, Across the great highway of thought. Transmitting my love to thy keeping; Thy soul must the message have caught.
Receiving it into thy being, Absorbing my love into thine. When hearts are once truly united, The love of their souls is divine.
And life is a heaven created By love, the great Ruler of all, And love is the message He sendeth; It lightens life’s heaviest pall.
Send love to thy friend and thy neighbor. Send love to thy bitterest foe. It costs thee not even one farthing. Love’s coin we can always bestow.
A FABLE.
A mother mouse with mien most humble Called to her children--one and all-- Revealed to them her sins so many, That o’er her heart hung like a pall.
“I must my sins be expiating Before my life draws to an end. To convent holy, I will enter, And my past sins will there amend.”
“O do not seek me! Do not follow! Where I am, seek not to know. Take heed my children to my warning, For it will save you pain and woe.”
“Farewell! Farewell! I now must leave you, Of my _advice_ O pray take heed; And do not follow my _example_, To grief it surely will you lead.”
When left alone the little mouselets Were very happy for a while; For mice, like children, are forgetful, They soon forgot their mother’s guile.
They hopped around, all rules forgetting, Until their hunger made them think Of their dear mother, their provider, Their eyes with tears then ’gan to blink.
“O let us search for our dear mother; She may be hungry, cold, or dead. O we will never give up hunting, Though we may die with her instead.”
They searched for her in every corner, In every crevice, every nook. But searched in vain, they could not find her: So thought no further they would look.
But they a big round cheese discovered; It long upon a shelf had lain. “Forsooth we’ll take a little breakfast, Our search has not been all in vain.”
All their past searching they found needless; For snugly housed within the cheese They found their poor repentant mother, With conscience very much at ease.
Forgotten was their mother’s _teaching_, And all that she for them had borne, They only thought of her _example_, And for her sins they could but mourn.
* * * * *
If you have sins my friends to mourn for, Seek not a cheese to hide within. For surely someone will be seeking, And finding cheese, will look therein.
DEPLORE NOT THE SHADOWS OF LIFE.
Our lives are rounded out by pain, And though it oft doth seem That we have more than we can bear, Through it we catch a gleam
Of light celestial from on high; The angels speak sweet words Of hope, and peace, encouragement, Their loving care engirds
Our weary, worn, and saddened hearts, And though not understood While here on earth, we know full well Our lives, by God are viewed.
E’en though in life are many clouds; There is some sunshine too; Then store the sunshine you may have And shadows not pursue.
LOVE’S GARLAND.
We will weave Love’s sweetest garland, Fit to deck a monarch’s brow, We will hide the thorns with roses, And before Love’s throne will bow.
We will strive to make all happy, And will never duty shirk. Never loiter by life’s wayside, Ne’er in heart shall malice lurk.
We are sowing, ever sowing-- Soon the harvest we shall reap; We are planting for the morrow. Deeds will ripen while we sleep.
We may harvest richest blessings, Or may gather thorns instead. We may place Love’s choicest garland On some tired and drooping head.
If an unkind word we utter, We shall make some poor heart sad. If we give a cup of water, It will make some faint heart glad.
We may often light life’s pathway With the candle of our love, And its beams will shine forever In the heaven we make above.
We may bring a ray of sunshine Where before was darkest cloud. And with flowers hide a coffin, And may cover up the shroud.
We can give a smiling welcome, We can send out loving words; E’en our tears may comfort some one Showing that our love engirds,
And surrounds him as a garland Woven by Love’s tireless hands; Woven from Love’s sweetest blossoms, Love translated in all lands.
We are gathering joy or sorrow In our every walk of life. We are sowing, we are reaping, Sowing peace, we reap not strife.
We may garner, we may scatter Many blessings on life’s road. We may help to carry burdens, We may help to lift the load
From our weaker brother’s shoulders From our weary sister’s way, We may cast a ray of sunshine O’er some dark and stormy day.
LET US BUILD ABOVE THE STARS.
Let us build above the stars, We are able to thus build, There is nothing that debars Us from ever doing so.
Though foundation be the earth; Have the corner-stone well laid; If it grounded was at birth, We can rest our pillars there.
Have our plans all drawn with skill, And have God as architect. We must ever do His will, And must trust Him ever, aye.
Even though we fall to earth With the plans that God has made. What we’ve gained, to us is worth All the efforts we have made.
GHOSTS OF THE ATTIC.
Memory takes me back to childhood To my home upon a hill; I am sitting in the attic, Memories cause my heart to thrill.
Now the rain is dropping, dropping, Softly dripping from the eaves, And the wind is sighing, moaning A sad dirge for dying leaves.
In the attic there are hanging Herbs of catnip, sage, and mint; Filling all the air with fragrance, While the sunbeams throw a glint
Through the tiny attic windows, Then they rest upon a chest; And this chest seems almost sacred, For beneath its lid doth rest
A small package of old letters Tied with ribbon once so blue; And the love that is within them Oft though told, is ever new.
Faded now the ink, and ribbon, And the letters yellow are; But the words which there are written Father Time can never mar.
They were written by my father, Every word was tender, true, They were love notes to my mother, Even now when brought to view (Though the ink is faded, yellow,) To my eyes they bring hot tears, To my breast a pang of anguish. They are ghosts of other years.
Ghosts of love, and truth, and virtue, But these ghosts I would not lay; They are memories of my childhood, And through life shall with me stay.
O the subtle, subtle fragrance Of the herbs upon the wall; They now fill my heart with sadness, And to memory they recall My dear mother, my dear father, And my childhood’s happy years; And forgotten they are never-- Ghosts they are which bring no fears.
Now the home of my dear parents Is the grave-yard by the sea. But their love has new awakening In the bright eternity.
NOT YET.
What doth the future hold for us? Shall we the past forget? The answer came in plaintive tones: “Sometime you may. Not yet.”
When will the future be made plain? The past hold no regret? In present be not one mistake-- The answer, is “Not yet.”
When will the path of life be smooth? No pitfalls by the way, No stone to bruise our weary feet, And never shadows gray.
O shall we ever understand Why trials should beset Us in our every walk of life? We ask in vain: “Not yet.”
DUTY.
When Duty doth call us, Unless we obey, No rest doth she give us By night, nor by day.
We cannot escape her, She gives us no peace. Till duty is done We have no release.
We try to avoid her, Pretend not to see The road she hath taken O’er mountain or lea.
We cannot evade her, For by us she stands, And fetters the strongest She binds on our hands.
Though we may not listen To Duty’s loud voice, Obeying her mandates May not be our choice;
We ever are happy When duty is done; When self is once conquered, A victory is won.
She smiles now upon us, The demon is laid. We’re glad that she conquered, That we have obeyed.
We will no more stumble, Nor push her aside, Triumphant is Duty, With us will aye bide.
We now have acknowledged Her right to control Each thought, and each action; Yea--even our soul.
We give up the battle, Proclaim our defeat, Now Duty triumphant Doth sweetly us greet.
We haul down our banner, Put Duty on throne, Though we were once traitors, We now will atone
For all our past errors, And sit at her feet, With joy do her bidding, Each duty will meet.
The battle is ended, And now we are free From selfish indulgence, And happy are we.
LIFE’S PLAN.
The plan of my life is marked out, Is traced with most infinite skill. Through ignorance the plan may be changed, And of good, I may often make ill.
Not arbiter, I, of my life, Yet I must forever beware-- For every mistake that I make Will add to my trouble and care.
I builded the best that I knew, And no one I’m sure could do more. The Architect God drew the plans, I knew not the tracings they bore.
So, blindly, I work from the plans; In future, they all will unfold, God means that sometime I shall know; And will not the plans e’er withhold.
BROTHERHOOD OF MAN.