Chapter 2

Through every minute of this day, Be with me, Lord! Through every day of all this week, Be with me, Lord! Through every week of all this year, Be with me, Lord! Through all the years of all this life, Be with me, Lord! So shall the days and weeks and years Be threaded on a golden cord, And all draw on with sweet accord Unto Thy fulness, Lord, That so, when time is past, By Grace, I may at last, Be with Thee, Lord.

THANK GOD FOR PEACE! JUNE, 1902

_Thank God for Peace_! Up to the sombre sky Rolled one great thankful sigh, Rolled one great gladsome cry-- The soul's deliverance of a mighty people. _Thank God for Peace_!

The long-low-hanging war-cloud rolled away, And night glowed brighter than the brightest day. For Peace is Light, And War is grimmer than the Night.

_Thank God for Peace_! Great ocean, was your mighty calm unstirred As through your depths, unseen, unheard, Sped on its way the glorious word That called a weary nation to ungird, And sheathed once more the keen, reluctant sword?

_Thank God for Peace_! The word came to us as we knelt in prayer That wars might cease. Peace found us on our knees, and prayer for Peace Was changed to prayer of deepest thankfulness. We knelt in War, we rose in Peace to bless Thy grace, Thy care, Thy tenderness.

_Thank God for Peace_! No matter now the rights and wrongs of it; You fought us bravely, and we fought you fair. The fight is done. Grip hands! No malice bear! We greet you, brothers, to the nobler strife Of building up the newer, larger life!

Join hands! Join hands! Ye nations of the stock! And make henceforth a mighty Trust for Peace. A great enduring peace that shall withstand The shocks of time and circumstance; and every land Shall rise and bless you--and shall never cease To bless you--for that glorious gift of Peace.

GOD'S HANDWRITING

He writes in characters too grand For our short sight to understand; We catch but broken strokes, and try To fathom all the mystery Of withered hopes, of death, of life, The endless war, the useless strife,-- But there, with larger, clearer sight, We shall see this--His way was right.

STEPHEN--SAUL

Stephen, who died while I stood by consenting, Wrought in his death the making of a life, Bruised one hard heart to thought of swift repenting, Fitted one fighter for a nobler strife.

Stephen, the Saint, triumphant and forgiving, Prayed while the hot blows beat him to the earth. Was that a dying? Rather was it living!-- Through his soul's travail my soul came to birth.

Stephen, the Martyr, full of faith and fearless, Smiled when his bruised lips could no longer pray,-- Smiled with a courage undismayed and peerless,-- Smiled!--and that smile is with me, night and day.

O, was it _I_ that stood there, all consenting? _I_--at whose feet the young men's clothes were laid? Was it _my_ will that wrought that hot tormenting? My heart that boasted over Stephen, dead?

Yes, it was I. And sore to me the telling. Yes, it was I. And thought of it has been God's potent spur my whole soul's might compelling These outer darknesses for Him to win.

PAUL

Bond-slave to Christ, and in my bonds rejoicing, Earmarked to Him I counted less than nought; His man henceforward, eager to be voicing That wondrous Love which Saul the Roman sought.

Sought him and found him, working bitter sorrow; Found him and claimed him, chose him for his own; Bound him in darkness, till the glorious morrow Unsealed his eyes to that he had not known.

WAKENING

This mortal dies,-- But, in the moment when the light fails here, The darkness opens, and the vision clear Breaks on his eyes. The vail is rent,-- On his enraptured gaze heaven's glory breaks, He was asleep, and in that moment wakes.

MACEDONIA, 1903

Devils' work! Devils' work, my masters! _Britain, your hands are red_! You may close your heart, but you cannot shirk This terrible fact,--_We--kept--the--Turk_. His day was past and we knew his work, But he played our game, so we kept the Turk, For our own sake's sake we kept the Turk. _Britain, your hands are red_!

Red are the walls and the ways, _And--Britain, your hands are red_! There is blood on the hearth, and blood in the well, And the whole fair land is a red, red hell,-- _Britain, your hands are red_!

"_Come over! Come over and help us_!" We are deaf to the ancient cry. --"_For the sake of our women and children_!" And Britain stands quietly by. _O Britain, your hands are red_!

_Cleanse your hands, Britain_! Yea, cleanse them in blood if it _must_ be! For blood that is shed in the cause of right Has power, as of old, to wash souls white. _Cleanse your hands, Britain_!

O for the fiery grace of old,-- The heart and the masterful hand! But grace grows dim and the fire grows cold, We are heavy with greed and lust and gold, And life creeps low in the land.

_Break your bonds, Britain_! Stand up once again for the right! We have stained our hands in the times that are past, Before God, we would wash them white.

_For the Nations are in the proving; Each day is Judgment Day; And the peoples He finds wanting Shall pass--by the winding way_.

HEARTS IN EXILE

O Exiled Hearts--for you, for you-- Love still can find the way! _Hear the voices of the women on the road_! O Shadowed Lives--for you, for you-- Hope hath not lost her ray! _Hear the laughter of the children on the road_! O Gloomy Night--for you, for you-- Dawn tells of coming day! _Hear the clink of breaking fetters on the road_! O Might sans Right--for you, for you-- The feet of crumbling clay! _Hear the slow, sure tread of Freedom on the road_!

WANDERED

The wind blows shrill along the hill, --_Black is the night and cold_-- The sky hangs low with its weight of snow, And the drifts are deep on the wold. But what care I for wind or snow? And what care I for the cold? _Oh ... where is my lamb-- My one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

The beasts are safely gathered in, --_Black is the night and cold_-- They are snug and warm, and safe from harm, In stall and byre and fold. And the dogs and I, by the blazing fire, Care nought for the snow and the cold. _Oh ... where is my lamb-- My one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

The barns are bursting with their store Of grain like yellow gold; A full, fat year has brought good cheer, --_Black is the night and cold_.-- But ... What care I for teeming barns? And what care I for gold? _Oh ... where is my lamb-- My one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

In the great kitchen, maids and men, --_Black is the night and cold_-- Laugh loud and long, with jest and song, And merry revel hold. Let them laugh and sing, let them have their fling, But for me--I am growing old. _Oh ... where is my lamb-- My one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

The old house moans, and sighs and groans, --_Black is the night and cold_-- We have seen brave times, you and I, old friend, But now--we are growing old. We have stood foursquare to many a storm, But now--we are growing old. _Oh ... where is my lamb-- My one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

Her mother sleeps on the hill out there, --_Black is the night and cold_,-- She is free from care, she is happier there, Beneath the warm brown mould. And I've sometimes hoped they may have met, And the end of the tale be told. _Ah ... where is our lamb-- Our one ewe lamb-- That strayed from the fold_?

Was that a branch that shed its load? --_Black is the night and cold_,-- Or--was it a footstep in the snow-- A timid footstep--halting, slow? Ah me! I am getting old! Is that a tapping--soft and low? Can it be ... I thought I heard ... but no, 'Twas only a branch that shed its snow,-- God's truth! I am getting old! _For I thought ... maybe It was my lamb Come home again to the fold_.

Dear Lord! a hand at the frozen pane! --_White on the night's black cold_-- O my lamb! my lamb! are you come again? My dear lost lamb, are you come again? Are you come again to the fold? It is!... It is!... Now I thank Thee, Lord, For Thy Mercies manifold! _She is come again! She is home again! My lamb that strayed from the fold_!

BIDE A WEE!

Though the times be dark and dreary, Though the way be long, Keep your spirits bright and cheery,-- --"Bide a wee, and dinna weary!" Is a heartsome song.

THE WORD THAT WAS LEFT UNSAID

"A red rose for my helmet, And a word before we part! The rose shall be my oriflamme The word shall fill my heart." _Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart-- Just a look, just a word and a look! A look or a sign that my love shall divine And a word for my hungering heart_!

She toyed with his love and her roses; Was it mischief or mischance?-- She dropped him a rose--'twas a white one, And he lifted it on his lance. _Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart! Is it thus--is it thus we part? With never a look, and never a sign, Nor a word for my hungering heart_!

She sought him among the dying, She found him among the dead; And the rose was still in his helmet. But his life had stained it red. _Heart, Heart, Heart of my heart! Now my heart within me is dead. And alack for the look! And alas for the sign! And the word that was left unsaid_!

DON'T WORRY

Just do your best, And leave the rest To Him who gave you Life,-- And Zeal for Labour,-- And the Joy of Strife,-- And Zest of Love,-- And all that lifts your soul above The lower things.

Life's truest harvest is in what we _would_, And strive our best for, Not most in what we _could_. The things we count supreme Stand, haply, not so high In God's esteem As _How_ and _Why_.

All-Seeing Sight Cleaves through the husk of things, Right to the Roots and Springs,-- Sees all things whole, And measures less the body than the soul. All-Righteous Right Will weigh men's motives, Not their deeds alone. End and Beginning unto Him are one; And _would_ for _could_ shall oft, perchance, atone.

Motives are seeds, From which at times spring deeds Not equal to the soul's outreaching hope. Strive for the stars! Count nought well done but best! Then, with brave patience, leave the rest To Him who knows. He'll judge you justly ere the record close.

THE GOLDEN ROSE

The Golden Rose is blowing still, Is growing still, is glowing still, In lonely vale, on lordly hill, The Golden Rose is glowing still;-- If only you can find it!

The Golden Rose still breaks and blows, Still breaks and blows, still gleams and glows, 'Mid icy blasts, and wintry snows, The Golden Rose still breaks and blows;-- Search w ell and you may find it!

The Golden Rose can never die, 'Tis grafted on Eternity; In hearts that Love doth glorify, The Golden Rose can never die,-- May it be yours to find it!

GADARA, A.D. 31

Rabbi, begone! Thy powers Bring loss to us and ours. Our ways are not as Thine. Thou lovest men, we--swine. Oh, get you hence, Omnipotence, And take this fool of Thine! His soul? What care we for his soul? What good to us that Thou hast made him whole, Since we have lost our swine?

And Christ went sadly. He had wrought for them a sign Of Love, and Hope, and Tenderness divine; They wanted--swine. Christ stands without _your_ door and gently knocks; But if your gold, or swine, the entrance blocks, He forces no man's hold--he will depart, And leave you to the treasures of your heart.

No cumbered chamber will the Master share, But one swept bare By cleansing fires, then plenished fresh and fair With meekness, and humility, and prayer. There will He come, yet, coming, even there He stands and waits, and will no entrance win Until the latch be lifted from within.

THE BELLS OF STEPAN ILINE

(_Cradle Song from "The Long Road_.")

Whisht, Baby! Whisht! Quick below the cover! Down into your nest, my bird! And--don't--you--dare--peep--over! For the grey wolves they are prowling, They are prowling, they are prowling. And the snow-wind it is howling, It is howling, it is howling. Hark!--Hark!-- Out there in the dark-- Ow--ooh! Ow--ooh! S-s-s-s-s-seee--oo--ooh! The wolves they are lean, So-o-o lean, so-o-o lean! And the wind it is keen, So-o-o keen, so-o-o keen! And they seek little babies who aren't sleeping! But lie you still, my Baby dear! Lie still, lie still, and maybe you'll hear-- Hark!--Hark!-- Out there in the dark,-- The silver bells and the golden bells, The swinging bells and the singing bells,-- The bells that are heard but never are seen, The wind and the wolves, and the bells in between,-- The bells of Iline, Good Stepan Iline,-- The bells of good Stepan Iline!

BOLT THAT DOOR!

Each sin has its door of entrance. Keep--that--door--closed! Bolt it tight! Just outside, the wild beast crouches In the night. Pin the bolt with a prayer, God will fix it there.

GIANT CIRCUMSTANCE

Though every nerve be strained To fine accomplishment, Full oft the life fall spent Before the prize is gained. And, in our discontent At waste so evident, In doubt and vast discouragement We wonder what is meant. But, tracing back, we find A Power that held the ways-- A Mighty Hand, a Master Mind, That all the troubled course defined And overruled the days. Some call it Fate; some--Chance; Some--Giant Circumstance; And some, upreaching to the sense Of God within the circumstance, Do call it--Providence!

THE HUNGRY SEA

Down to the sea, the hungry sea, _O the sea is hungry ever_! Seeking food for the bairns and me, Seeking food in the hungry sea; _O the sea is hungry ever_!

My man and my lad--their bones are white, _O the sea is hungry ever_! Into the maw of the grim black night, Their hearts were bold and their faces bright; _O the sea is hungry ever_!

The sun was red and the clouds were black, _O the sea is hungry ever_! And the sky was heavy with flying wrack, When forth they fared,--and they came not back; _O the sea is hungry ever_!

Forth they fared and they came not back, _O the sea is hungry ever_! O, I fear the sea, and I hate the sea, That took my man and my lad from me; _O the sea is hungry ever_!

WE THANK THEE, LORD

We thank Thee, Lord, That of Thy tender grace, In our distress Thou hast not left us wholly comfortless.

We thank Thee, Lord, That of Thy wondrous might, Into our night Thou hast sent down the glory of the Light.

We thank Thee, Lord, That all Thy wondrous ways, Through all our days, Are Wisdom, Right, and Ceaseless Tenderness.

THE VAIL

He only sees both sides of that dark vail That hangs before men's eyes-- He only. It is well! Hope ever stands unseen Behind the screen, For knowledge would bring Hope to sudden death, And cloud the present with the coming ill. I would lie still, Dear Lord, I would lie still, And stay my troubled heart on Thee, Obedient to Thy will.

NO EAST OR WEST

In Christ there is no East or West, In Him no South or North, But one great Fellowship of Love Throughout the whole wide earth.

In Him shall true hearts everywhere Their high communion find. His service is the golden cord Close-binding all mankind.

Join hands then, Brothers of the Faith, Whatever your race may be!-- Who serves my Father as a son Is surely kin to me.

In Christ now meet both East and West, In Him meet South and North, All Christly souls are one in Him, Throughout the whole wide earth.

THE DAY--THE WAY

Not for one single day Can I discern my way, But this I surely know,-- Who gives the day, Will show the way, So I securely go.

LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY

O God, within whose sight All men have equal right To worship Thee. Break every bar that holds Thy flock in diverse folds! Thy Will from none withholds Full liberty.

Lord, set Thy Churches free From foolish rivalry! Lord, set us free! Let all past bitterness Now and for ever cease, And all our souls possess Thy charity!

Lord, set the people free! Let all men draw to Thee In unity! Thy temple courts are wide, Therein let all abide In peace, and side by side, Serve only Thee!

God, grant us now Thy peace! Bid all dissensions cease! God, send us peace! Peace in True Liberty, Peace in Equality, Peace and Fraternity, God, send us peace!

FREEMEN

Let no man stand between my God and me! I claim a Free man's right Of intercourse direct with Him, Who gave me Freedom with the air and light. God made me free.-- Let no man stand between Me and my liberty!

We need no priest to tell us God is Love.-- Have we not eyes to see, And minds to apprehend, and hearts That leap responsive to His Charity? God's gifts are free.-- Let no man stand between Us and His liberty!

We need no priest to point a way to heaven.-- God's heaven is here,--is there,-- Man's birthright, with the light and air,-- "God is His own and best interpreter." His ways are free.-- Let no man stand between Us and His liberty!

Let no man strive to rob us of this right! For this, from age to age, Our fathers did a mighty warfare wage, And, by God's help, we'll keep our heritage! God says--"Be Free!" And we,-- "NO MAN SHALL STAND BETWEEN OUR SONS AND LIBERTY!"

THE LONG ROAD

Long the road, Till Love came down it! Dark the life, Till Love did crown it! Dark the life, And long the road, Till Love came To share the load! For the touch Of Love transfigures All the road And all its rigours. Life and Death, Love's touch transfigures. Life and Death And all that lies In between, Love sanctifies. Once the heavenly spark is lighted, Once in love two hearts united, Nevermore Shall aught that was be As before.

THE CHRIST

The good intent of God became the Christ. And lived on earth--the Living Love of God, That men might draw to closer touch with heaven, Since Christ in all the ways of man hath trod.

THE BALLAD OF LOST SOULS

With the thirty pieces of silver, They bought the Potter's Field; For none would have the blood-money And the interest it might yield.

The Place of Blood for the Price of Blood, And that was meet, I ween, For there they would bury the dead who died In frowardness and sin.

And the first man they would bury there Was Judas Iscariot; And that was as dreadful a burying As ever was, I wot.

For the sick earth would not keep him; Each time it thrust him out, And they that would have buried him Stood shuddering round about.

And others they would bury In that unhallowed spot, But honest earth would none of them, Because of Iscariot.

And oh, it was a fell, fell place, With dead black trees all round, And a quag that boiled and writhed and coiled Where had been solid ground.

For every tree that stood there, And the green grass every blade, Shrivelled and died on every side, Whenever the price was paid.

And in despair they left him there, And there his body lay, Till his sad soul came, all black with shame, And carried it away.

And those denied a sepulture In that most dismal spot, Gibbered and flew, a ghastly crew, Incensed with rage, that grew and grew, Against Iscariot.

For their souls were all in torment, While their bodies uncovered lay, And never a moment's rest was theirs, Either by night or day.

That was a place of wailings, And the grisly things of Death,-- The bare black arms of the trees above, And the black quag underneath.

No light of the moon fell on it, Nor ever a star did shine On the quivering face of that dread place, Because of Iscariot's sin.

Then there came by the soul of Iscariot, The same who sold his Lord, And he dragged his body after him, But never spake a word.

Since earth his body would not, He must drag it to and fro, He had tried in vain to be quit of it, But it would not let him go.

So the soul of Judas Iscariot Came by the Potter's Field, And there the ill his deed had wrought Was unto him revealed.

And when the others saw him, They leaped at him eagerly;-- "This is he for whom we suffer! --'Tis he! 'Tis he! 'Tis he!"

Then all afire with mad desire, They chased him through the dark, And each soul carried his dead bodie, Grim, and stiff, and stark.

They struck at him with their bodies, They cursed him for his sin, They made to tear his dumb soul there, With their fingers long and lean.

And Judas fled in his horror, With that fell crew behind, And as they sped the people said Death rode upon the wind.

They chased him near, they chased him far, Because of his treachery, And ever he just escaped their lust, And ever they were nigh.

They chased him near, they chased him far, And ever they were nigh, And never a star shone out on them Out of the cold black sky.

And as they sped by Calvary, There were empty crosses three,-- And on the ground, below the mound, Lay one in agony.

"_Three times I swore I knew Him not, And then--He looked on me. Ah, such a look!--no harshest word Had ever proved so sharp a sword To my inconstancy_.

"_Three times I did deny Thee, Lord! And yet, thou couldst forgive, Now am I thine--in life, in death; Thee will I serve with every breath, While I have breath to give_."

They sped by an open window, Where one knelt all alone, In great amaze, in greater grief, In woe that wrestled with belief, The Mother mourned her Son.

"_My son, I knew thee more than man,-- Ah me!--and the heart of me! Yet, man in God, and God in man, Still wast thou part of me_.

"_The nails through thy dear hands and feet,-- Ah me! they pierced my own. The thorns that on thy brow they plied,-- The spear they drove into thy side,-- The pangs thy Godhead could not hide,-- They pierced me too, my son_.

"_My son! My son! My more than son, My heart is full for thee! Yet, tho' I know thee so much more Than ever mortal man before,-- Yet, tho' I worship and adore,-- Woe's me!--and the heart of me_!"

And ever they came by the Potter's Field, And thrust their bodies in, And ever the sick earth spat them out, Because of Iscariot's sin.

They sped along a palace-wall, The feast waxed high inside,-- On Golgotha the Cross still stood, The Cross where man had nailed his God, Red was the Rood still with his blood,-- They drank--"_The Crucified_!"

The revel gashed the sombre night, And fast the wine-cups plied,-- Time touched Eternity that day;-- God had come down to man that day;-- The world began anew that day;-- They drank--"_The Crucified_!"

And ever again to the Potter's Field, The Souls in torment came, But the black quag boiled and writhed and coiled, And would have none of them.

And everywhere strange shapes of death Walked in the fearsome gloom, For that last cry from Calvary Had rent in twain the Temple vail, And burst the gates of Doom.

Through all the startled city, walked The saints that had been dead, And to the sorrowful in heart Holy comfort ministred.

And when they met Iscariot, Sore hounded in the chase, They cried to him, for the Love of God, To seek God's grace.

And ever to the Field of Death, The souls in torment came, Seeking the rest of the Blessed Dead,-- But earth would none of them.

And as they whirled through a garden, They came on an empty tomb, The stone was gone, a soft light shone Full softly on the gloom.

Bright was that Light, and wondrous bright, 'Twas brighter than the sun; As then it shone, so shines it now, And shall when Time is done.

And all along the pathway Was a track of throbbing light; Where the Christ had gone His footsteps shone, Like stars in a velvet night.

'Twas the spent soul of Iscariot Was like the wind-blown dust, As nearer still, and near, and near, He bent and crept, in doubt, and fear, He came because he must.

'Twas the sick soul of Iscariot That drew from out the night And the full of his sin was known to him In the Shining of the Light.

In the rim of the Light he laid him, Repented of his sin. "_I wotted not! I wotted not! Dear Master, take me in_!"