Part 4

We are the children of one God.-- This truth I’ll not deny. But _you_ stand clad in fine array, Have houses grand, while _I_ Must toil in grime from morn till night, And oft am hungry, cold, My loved ones living in a hut, All for the want of gold.

_You_ know not what it is to work; _Your_ measure is complete; Aye running over; pressed hard down; While I toil on in heat, In cold, in wind, in rain, and snow, With aching back and feet; With pittance small, and that begrudged.-- You scorn me when we meet.

You prate of “Brotherhood of Man,” But will you hold the plough? Or till the soil, or plant the grain, Or stack the hay in mow? I see you smile my _brother_ (?) man; _You_ are of higher birth. _You_ fix your eyes upon the stars, While _mine_ belong to earth.

_Your_ children must to college go, But _mine_ must learn to work, Must learn to wait on _you_ and _yours_, And never duty shirk. Yet, brothers we, in very sooth, Are children of one God; And though you claim a higher birth, We’re leveled ’neath the sod.

MAN DEFYING THE DYING SUN.

Farewell, farewell, O dying Sun! Thy glorious race is almost run. But I acknowledge this to thee That thou hast fought most valiantly. Wast ever foremost in the fight, No rest for thee by day, nor night. I too have fought most manfully, And stand erect, defying thee.

I’ve fought the fight, have gained the day, I shall live on forever, aye.-- Farewell then Sun, for _thou_ must die; While _I_ have gained eternity. When thou art dead and cold, O Sun, Thou’lt be a crownless king laid low. No pity shall I have for thee, O thou my conquered, fallen foe.

Thou seem’st to laugh exultantly-- Thou shalt be humbled, haughty Sun; He laughs the best, who laughs the last, For now thy race is nearly run. I stand alone defying thee One moment, then, I too shall die. But I have gained the victory; I nevermore to thee shall cry.

Thou standest in thy majesty, Thou standest in thy glorious might. With scorn thou viewest dying man From out thy wondrous, wondrous height Thou lookest down on me, O Sun, And dost contempt upon me cast. But thou art slowly dying, Sun, Thy greatness is but of the past.

I stand alone upon the earth-- No living thing can I now see; But I shall witness thy defeat; A fallen king thou soon wilt be. One moment I shall stand erect; A sovereign of the earth, and space; Then die as thou hast died, O Sun, The last of all my dying race.

The last of all humanity-- I’ve struggled hard to win the race; Have conquered too, for now I stand Alone on earth, grim death to face. The earth is mine, I’ve conquered thee-- One moment witness thy defeat, Then falling to the earth, now king; A dead, cold Sun, I proudly greet.

* * * * *

The earth is cold; (all life is gone,--) And little now it holds for me. I miss thy warmth, I miss thy light, Although I stand exultantly.-- Thou never canst atone, O Sun, For all the misery thou hast wrought-- ’Tis evermore on earth, dark night; Though I have life, ’tis dearly bought.

Farewell! Farewell! defeated Sun! Thou now art dead; thy race is run.--

IF THERE IS NO HEREAFTER.

If soul has no hereafter, What is the unknown bond That bindeth soul to matter, And what is the beyond?

What is the power that buildeth? What is the mind that wills? What is the power within us That all our being thrills?

If there is no hereafter What use to us was birth? We’re naught but vegetation Encumbering the earth.

If knowledge had been given Of th’ power that brought us here-- The law of living, dying.-- Of death we’d have no fear.

We’d start on our new journey, And would not death regret. These questions are deep problems Which sometime must be met.

This life would be a failure If naught there was beyond; No tie twixt soul and matter, No everlasting bond.

* * * * *

O Thou Almighty Father! Canst be that soul must die? O listen to my pleading, O Father hear my cry!

O tell me what is dying? I would by Thee be taught.-- Give me the glimpse of heaven Which I so long have sought.--

LOVE’S SONG.

What sounds the deepest notes of life? Is it bright sunshine, aye? Some wish that we have had fulfilled, Or pleasure in our way.

Are we the happiest when some note Of praise rings through the air? Or when proud Fame entices us, Then leaves us to despair.

When people list with bated breath To hear the words we speak, And words of admiration give, And joyously us seek?

Ah no! The deepest note is struck When we with others weep; When we have sympathy for those Who are in trouble deep.

It is afflictions we must bear, Mistake that we have made, That strikes the deepest chords of life, And ne’er from mem’ry fade.

The loss of those who were a part Of every joy, and grief. The shadowy thoughts within our souls That is of life the chief.

To feel, to know, there is a world Where we shall meet again The loved ones who have gone beyond; But not beyond our ken--

* * * * *

Now all the past forgotten is, And notes of joy will ring Throughout the blest eternity, For we Love’s song now sing.

FORGIVE.

Forgive me dear, I did not know That words of mine wouldst cause thee woe. I love thee all too well to bring To thy dear heart the smallest sting. Thy life is all too sweet and pure To ever grief or pain endure.

And evermore I’ll guard my speech, E’ermore my careless tongue I’ll teach To speak but loving words to thee, From caustic speech I will be free. The past is past. Wilt thou forget The words I spake when first we met?

The thoughtless words that I then spake Will ever in my heart awake Remorse, and sorrow, deepest pain.-- O must I plead to thee in vain? E’er more I’ll speak but love words, dear, For only love-words shouldst thou hear.

FORGET.

Forget the past, ’tis dead and gone.-- When book is read, no further con The pages old; unless therein There’s something that will ever win A throb of joy within thy heart, And of thy life seem e’en a part.

The sacred present we will hold. The future to us will unfold. The dead, dead past shall be entombed; Forget it dear, for it is doomed To mould in grave, to dust return, All record of that past we’ll burn.

Begin the “Book of Life” anew; This book we’ll not with tears bedew. In it we’ll have but love, and peace, All bitterness of past must cease. The present, and the future be Love’s sweetest song, and symphony.

YESTERDAYS.

For all the buried yesterdays I have not one regret; I love them not, I mourn them not, I would them all forget.

Of all the dead, dead yesterdays Which were so dearly bought, I care not to remember one, They were with misery fraught, They held no joy, they held no peace, Each day had some deep pain; So I would never call them back; Each day seemed lived in vain.

Today I live, today I love, The yesterdays are dead. I wot not of the passing days Though by them I am led. Today is mine with all it holds, I’ll do the best I know. The future is a closed up book, And may be filled with woe.

TOMORROW.

O the sweet happy thoughts of tomorrow.-- No shadowy clouds in Life’s sky, No tears in our eyes, and no mourning, No trouble in pathway doth lie.

Today may be filled with dark shadows, Tomorrow they all clear away. For Hope is the goddess that guides us, Tomorrow she with us will stay.

Tomorrow may not be as happy As Hope bids us look for, today. But if we’ve reached out for Life’s gladness, Life’s gladness will come in our way.

’Tis better to seek the bright sunshine; The rainbow comes after the clouds, And sweeter is life after storm-clouds, For vanished the gloom that enshrouds.

CONSOLATION.

To my soul a voice hath spoken, Hath spoken thus to me. O earth-child be not discouraged, For God doth pity thee.

Though thy way be filled with shadows, And Life’s sun obscured by clouds; Though Life’s road seems leading downward, And deep darkness all enshrouds;

There is light for thee, and gladness, And sweet Peace will thee enfold. In the evening, in the gloaming Joy unbounded will thee hold.

Never more will desolation In thy heart find resting place, If with Love thou meetest troubles, And with him thou keepest pace.

THE DEAD SUMMER.

In the forest, in the autumn, ’Neath the oaks, and ’neath the beeches, Are the dead and dying children Of the mother trees.

And the trees are sighing, moaning, And the clouds are weeping, weeping Tears of sorrow for the summer That is dead, and gone.

E’en the sun his face has hidden By a veil of clouds and shadows, All the earth seems grieved and troubled At the summer’s death.

But the earth has a new carpet, Gorgeous with its brilliant colors. For the autumn leaves have covered And hid the sodden ground.

THERE IS A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS.

Though life may be gloomy, And dark be thy way, No light in thy pathway, Not even one ray. Look up to the heavens; There’s a rift in the clouds.

Though life may be warfare, Thy heart have no peace, Fear not, thou wilt conquer, Thy heart have surcease. Look upward, not downward, There’s a rift in the clouds.

Though friends may prove faithless, And false unto thee; There may be a reason That thou dost not see. Have charity always, And see rift in the clouds.

Thy days may be cloudy, Thy sun be obscured, To thee may come evil, It can be endured. There’s a rift in the clouds. Soon the sun will peep through.

Give comfort to some one Who comes in thy way. O be not despondent, Be cheerful alway. Look up and be happy, See the rift in the clouds.

May the rift in the clouds O’erspread all thy sky, And all birds of ill omen Away from thee fly. Seek ever life’s sunshine, And the rift in life’s clouds.

TO A COMET.

O thou uncanny, fearful thing! A flaming sword art thou; Thou may’st be sent by demon’s hand Among the stars to plough.

Thou’st travelled on for many years, And still must travel on. Thy master’s bidding thou must do Until the victory’s won.

Sometime perhaps thy anger fierce No more will burn in wrath. Thou’lt gently fall upon the earth, Leave blessings in thy path.

Thou art a mystery now to us, Thy life may be _divine_-- Although it seems that demons black Hath part in life like thine.

LOVE’S DART.

My heart is filled with joy today; There’s peace within my soul. My cup is running o’er with bliss, There’s love in pleasure’s bowl.

I will not think of aught that’s sad; I’ll happy be today. Tomorrow may bring pain and grief, But love will each allay.

Life’s bowl is filled with happiness, There’s naught that I regret. It is so full of love and joy I would not it forget.

The god of love peeped in at morn, From bow, he sent a dart, In aim he was so accurate It lodged within my heart.

WEEDS.

A weed was in my garden growing; I nurtured it with tender care, It grew to be a flower of beauty With col’ring rich and fragrance rare.

It only needed love, and culture To bring out beauty from its heart; It ever had been timid, shrinking, But now it proudly took a part

With other flowers whose birth was higher. Though coming up from out the sod It gave to all sweet ministration, It was a thought, a part of God.

Now if a little weed so humble, A higher place in life could gain By care, and love, and sweet attention, Why not a human weed attain

Conditions better, and by struggling, Arise from out its low estate? But _it_ needs help and cultivation To rise above its seeming fate.

It needs but pruning, needs but watching. From human weed ’twill rise to be A flower of love, with soul of beauty; It needs though, _love_ and _sympathy_.

Though but a weed in Life’s bright garden, It is not crushed by th’ heel of Fate. It only needs a new awakening To enter Life’s bright golden gate.

Then give at least as much attention To human weed as garden flower, And thus you will enrich creation, And God will blessings on you shower.

THE BLIND BEGGAR’S APPEAL.

Just close your eyes and try to walk Along the crowded thoroughfare; And ask each passer-by for help, Then know the insults I must bear.

I’m hungry, homeless, cold and sick. I’ve groped around the livelong day; No pitying word have I once heard, No one has stopped me on my way

A little pittance to dole out To me, who as a little child Had mother love, and father’s care, Enough to eat, enough to wear.

O God have pity! And now take The poor blind beggar who does crave Some resting place upon the earth; E’en though that place should be the grave.

I seek some shelter from the cold; Some place to lay my weary head.-- Some day I shall have covering warm, But that will be when I am dead.

Sometime sweet flowers will cover me, The grass grow green upon my grave. My weary body will have rest, My soul return to God who gave

The poor blind beggar rest at last, A place to rest beneath the sod, A covering of sweet flowers and grass.-- So patiently I’ll kiss the rod

Though it may scourge my body weak, Though I be hungry, blind and poor, I’ll bear my burdens patiently, And thank my God that I them bore.

THE THREADS OF LIFE.

I count my age by what I’ve done And not by months, and years. I count from smiles, and happiness, And not from pain, and tears.

By these I’ve lived an hundred years, May live an hundred more. I’ll count the sunbeams in my life, The clouds I will ignore.

I’ll count the good that I have done. Alas! That will not do. If by that standard I should count, My years would be too few.

Turn back O wheel of Time I pray-- Another chance I crave. I would more worthy be of life, More worthy of the grave.

But I have failed through thoughtlessness, Through ignorance also; But thoughtlessness and ignorance Excuse me not, I know.

I must pick up the threads of life, And weave them o’er again, For every stitch I’ve dropped in past, Has left on soul a stain.

Life’s shuttle I must hold with care, Life’s web must perfect be. I weave not for this world alone, But for eternity.

MEMORY’S BOOK.

I ope the book at mother’s side, And turn the leaves so pure. I read the pages with delight; Their innocence allure.

I turn the leaves with greatest care, I find there naught of pain; ’Tis happy childhood’s joyous days, And were not lived in vain.

I turn another leaf, and find Some things I would forget; Some selfish thought, some unkind act, And much that I regret.

Again I turn a leaf, and there I see inscribed thereon, Mistakes, and errors, selfishness, Yet many victories won.

Full many times I conquered self, And overcame much ill. These memories are the dearest ones, And linger with me still.

One memory sweet has its own place, Has its own sacred nest. ’Tis buried deep within my heart, And rests there--let it rest.

O childhood days come back again! When at my mother’s knee I learned the songs my mother sang, In our cottage by the sea.

DO NOT BORROW TROUBLE.

Do not ever trouble borrow; You’ll find enough of it at home; Find enough for self, and neighbor, You will for it not have to roam.

Go not forth to meet sad Trouble, For she with tears will e’er you greet. But if given a cold greeting, She will acknowledge her defeat.

Do not cross life’s troubled waters While you are yet upon the land. Do not feel that you are sinking Beneath life’s drifting, shifting sand.

Though your life may seem a desert, Of scorching winds, and burning sand; You may find some green oasis, Some beauty in a desert land.

Trouble is a turbid river. On it you need not launch life’s boat. Life has rivers calm and peaceful, And placid streams on which to float.

You may never cross the river, On troubled sea may not be tossed. Though life’s bridge be weak and swaying, By you, the bridge need not be crossed.

Do not think that you must carry The burdens of life’s yesterday. Do not look for grief tomorrow, With courage live your life today.

You must rise above all trouble, And keep it ever from your view; It can ever then be vanquished, And you can bid it glad adieu.

GIVE SMILES, NOT TEARS.

Give to the world your happy thoughts, Too many give but tears. A word, a thought, a deed full oft Makes some heart sad, or cheers Some lonely, weary, world sick soul, Who now will drop his cares, And even smile at his defeats, And disappointment bears.

For in his heart is now a hope, A hope for better things. The world is now not half so sad, And joy it even brings. If you are sad, hide grief beneath A happy smiling face. No one is better for your tears, Nor stronger for Life’s race.

Then bury grief within your heart, And dig its grave full deep; And cover it with flowers of Hope, And do not o’er it weep. Too many keep their sorrows fresh By tears too often shed. Look up! Look out! Your sorrows hide, And rest in Hope’s own bed.

FAREWELL TO THE DYING YEAR.

Farewell! farewell! thou dying year; For thee we will not mourn, But bury thee in grave of past, In garments worn, and torn.

And yet, thou hast not been unkind, Thou’st giv’n more smiles than tears; Hast giv’n us health, e’en though not wealth, Bright hopes of coming years.

So we should bury thee with pomp, Take off thy garments torn, And give to thee more fitting shroud Than that which thou hast worn.

Though we give tribute to thee new; We’ll still remember thee. We know thou didst the best thou couldst While struggling to be free.

Free from the chains that bound thee down, And though we shed no tear At thy demise, we feel that thou Hast given us some good cheer.

The blare of trumpets at thy death Shouldst sorrow to us bring, For thou canst never be recalled. A dirge, we should then sing,

For opportunities we’ve lost. Our chance comes not again To do the things we should have done. How sad the words, “It might have been.”

THE BOOK OF GIFTS.

An angel came to me one day With “Book of Gifts” in hand, And offered any one therein That I should then demand.

With pride he pointed out to me Each gift, and urged that I Would take from them the choicest one. For in his power did lie The giving out of life’s rich stores. This single time had man Been given the choice of worldly gifts Since life on earth began.

I had the choice of all life’s gifts, Fame, honor, untold wealth. I chose not one he offered me, But begged for _love_ and _health_.

UNKIND WORDS.

If we could know the sorrow That unkind words aye give; We never would them utter; For unkind words will live Long after we’ve forgotten That we the words once spake, And that a harsh word spoken Some weary heart may break.

When once a word has started Upon its journey long; It travels on forever. And mingles with the throng Of other words of censure; More bitter grows each day, And though perhaps forgiven It sometime love will slay.

SEEK FOR THE GOOD IN LIFE.

In our lives there’s much of gladness, Also much that is sad, Much in life without a blemish, Many things that may be bad.

But, we should ignore all evil; There is ever much of good. We shall find what e’er we look for, Then o’er evil do not brood.

Grasp the good when e’er you find it. Good is not for but the few; If too much to you is given, Some one else can share with you.

There is sunshine, there is shadow, Clouds must come before the rain; After storm clouds, comes the rainbow, Oft from grief, we peace attain.

Some one else must share our troubles; They should share our pleasures too; For life’s flowers are ever brightest When Love’s tears the flowers bedew.

Be ye never then disheartened, There is beauty everywhere. There are fragrant flowers growing In the garden of Despair.

Let us then be not discouraged, Soon life’s storms will clear away. Though our griefs seem overwhelming, Brighter soon will be life’s day.

Though life’s sun his face has hidden, And black clouds obscure our view, All the flowers take on new beauty, After rain, and after dew.

LOVE’S CROWN.

The tasks that have been set for me, Are almost done; are almost done. I’ve labored hard, and faithfully, But now life’s race is nearly run.

I’m weary, and I’m sore distressed, My burdens all too heavy are. In vain I try to lay them down; I’ve brought them all too far, too far.

I’ll try to lay them down at eve, And from my labors try to rest. Though I begin another day, Tonight I’ll rest, tonight I’ll rest.

Tomorrow at the break of day, Again I take them up with grief, And through another day I work; For me, there never comes relief.

* * * * *

Complaints will never do my work, Nor fit me for life’s weary day. With courage then I’ll do my tasks, And all life’s laws try to obey.

I’ll bear my cross whatever it is, No one shall bear a cross for me; And though I bend beneath life’s load, From selfishness I will be free.

There is a time not distant far, When I can lay life’s burdens down. So many crosses I have borne, At last I hope to win Love’s crown.

MY SOUL’S DESIRE AND DESTINY

I’ve travelled down through centuries. Have never known one moment’s rest. Have passed through every phase of life. Is this, O Father, Thy behest?

I’ve battled with conditions that Oftimes seemed much too hard to bear, Would then give up, and seem to sink Into the maelstrom of Despair.

Again would take Life’s burdens up Without a knowledge of my past. Experience was of little use In seething whirlpool it seemed cast.

The same temptations come to us; As fiends, they ever us pursue. The consequences are the same. We’ve brought down retribution too.

I still desire to live, to do-- I am not ready yet to change My form, my thoughts, my puny life; E’en though I gain a wider range.

Absorbed though I may be in Love, And e’en a part of Deity, I still am human in _desire_, And human still, I wish to be.

* * * * *

Soul’s Destiny I now take up.-- Where shall I go? What shall I be? Shall I aye travel on, and on? Or be a part of Deity.

Will memories of the past be mine? And will a panoramic view Before mine eyes be ever cast? If so, that past I can but rue.

Absorbed in God, I lose myself. I am no part of my _own_ life. Though one with God, and part of Him, My soul will still keep up its strife

To be _itself_, apart, though with The Maker, Ruler of my soul. The _Soul’s Desire_ is not yet dead, E’en though bright heaven is its goal.

Though I may carry “Karma” on, Improve upon it ever, aye; Could I not do the same, and yet Not on this weary earth e’er stay?

INCARNATION.

Though part and parcel of the past The future is an unknown book-- Though writing for eternity, I dare not on its pages look.