Chapter 4

See! He comes! They start in terror. There, along the mountain side, Death comes stalking, slowly, surely,--_Pele must be satisfied_. Which among them will he summon, with his dreadful pointing finger? All their hearts become as water, all their faces blanch with fear, Deaths they suffer in the waiting, while dread Death draws near.

Now he stands in dreadful menace, seeking with a baleful eye For the sweetest and the fairest--for the meetest sacrifice. "Choose, O choose!"--they cry in terror; "choose your victim and be gone, For we each die deaths while waiting, till dread Pele's choice be known! Choose your victim, Priest of Pele, choose your victim and be gone!"

Slowly points the dreadful finger, marks the newly-wedded bride; All the rest, save one, fall from her, as the living from the dead. From the first of time's beginnings Pele ne'er has been gainsayed; Pele chooses whom she chooses, each and all the choice abide, For the common good and safety,--_Pele must be satisfied_!

Still the mountain reels and shudders, still the awful thunders peal, Like a snake the ruthless finger holds them all in terror still; One is there whose life is broken, parted from his chosen bride, But the threatening finger, heedless of the lives it may divide, Lights upon a tiny maiden,--_Pele must be satisfied_!

Slow, the grim high-priest of Pele turns to climb the mountain side; Slow, the victims turn and follow,--_Pele must be satisfied_. And the rest shrink, dumb and helpless, daring not to lift an eye, And beyond, the labouring mountain cracks and belches living fires, Till the island reels and shudders at dread Pele's agonies.

But a greater one than Pele walked the mountain side that day;-- To them, climbing, dumb and dim-eyed--like a flash of heavenly flame, Swift and bright as saving angel, fair Kapiolani came, Swiftly as a saving angel, gleaming like a heavenly flame, Thirsting like a sword for battle, fair Kapiolani came.

Radiant with the faith of martyrs, all aglow with new-born zeal, Burning to release the people from the bondage and the thrall, From the deadly thrall of Pele, from the ever-threatening doom, From the everlasting menace, from the awful lake of fire, Like a bright avenging angel fair Kapiolani came!

"Hear me now, you priest of Pele, and ye men of Owhyhee! Hearken! ye who cringe and tremble, at the sound of Kilauea, Fearful of the wrath of Pele, fearful of the lake of fire!-- Priest, I say there is no Pele! Pele is not--never was! Pele lives but in your legends--there is only one true God!"

"Cursed, thrice accursed, you who thus great Pele do defy, Here, upon her sacred mountain, of a surety you shall die! Pele, mighty Pele, Vengeance! Strike her with thy dreadful doom! So let every scoffer perish!--Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" And Kapiolani answered--"Pele! Pele! Pele! come!"

Loud the mountain roared and thundered; shuddered all who heard and saw, Dauntless stood Kapiolani, dauntless with her faithful few. "Come!" she cried again. "Come, Pele! Smite me with thy dreadful doom! I am waiting, mighty Pele!--Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" And the mountain roared and thundered;--but the goddess did not come.

"Hearken, Priest! You have deceived us. All your life has been a lie, Black your heart is, red your hands are, with the blood of those who die. All these years you have misled us with your awful threats of doom. Now it ends! I do defy you, and your goddess I defy. Pele, is not, never has been. All your worship is a lie.

"I will climb your sacred mountain. I will dare your lake of fire. I will eat your sacred berries. I will dare your goddess there, There and then to wreak her vengeance, then and there to come in fire, And with awful burnings end me, now and for eternity; But if Pele does not end me, then her worship ends this day."

Then the great high priest of Pele turned to fiery Kilauea. "Come!" he said, "the goddess calls you!"--and they climbed the mountain side, Up the slopes of Mauna Loa, to the hell of Kilauea, With the bright blue sky above them, with the blazing sun above them, While the mountain shook beneath them, and its head was wrapped in fire.

Fearful, hopeful, all the people crept along the shaking path, Hardly breathing at their daring, thus to brave dread Pele's wrath, Bending low lest she should see them, breathing soft lest she should hear, Certain that Kapiolani would be sacrificed that day, To the vengeance of the goddess, to the anger of Pele.

"_As little child On mother's breast, O rest, my heart, Have rest! Who rests on Him Is surely blest. So rest, my heart, Have rest_! _As warrior bold His foes among, Be strong, my heart, Be strong! Who rests on Him Shall ne'er go wrong. Be strong, my heart, Be strong_!"

Thus, Kapiolani, dauntless, singing softly as she went, With a face as calm and fearless as a child on pleasure bent, Climbed the side of Mauna Loa, to the dreadful lake of fire, While the mountain shook and thundered, while the people blanched and shuddered, Climbed to Hale-Mau-Mau,--to the dreadful lake of fire.

All the people waited trembling, stood afar off pale and trembling, While Kapiolani, fearless, climbed up to the lake of fire, With the fiery glow all round her, with a heavenly light about her. Shining with a radiance brighter than since time began had shone From the Lake of Ceaseless Burnings, from the dreadful lake of fire.

"Here," she cried, "I pluck your berries, Pele,--and I give you none! See! I eat your sacred berries, Pele,--and I give you none! Pele, here I break your tabus! Come, with all your dreadful fires! Burn me, Pele! I defy you!--Pele! Pele! Pele! come!" Come now, Pele, or for ever own that you are overcome!

"Pele comes not. Is she sleeping? Is she wandering to-day? Is she busy with her burnings? Has the goddess nought to say? Hear me, friends!--There is no Pele! One true God alone there is. His, this mountain! His, these burnings! You, and I, and all things,--His! Goodness, Mercy, Loving-Kindness, Life Eternal--all are His!

"From this day, let no man tremble, when he feels the mountain shake! From this day, no man or maiden shall be killed for Pele's sake! From this day, we break the thraldom of the dreadful lake of fire. From this day, we pass for ever from the scourge of Pele's rod.-- From this day, Thou, Lord Jehovah, be our one and only God!"

THEY COME!

From North and South, and East and West, They come! The sorely tried, the much oppressed, Their Faith and Love to manifest, They come! They come to tell of work well done, They come to tell of kingdoms won, To worship at the Great White Throne, They come! In a noble consecration, With a sound of jubilation. They come! They come!

Through tribulations and distress, They come! Through perils great and bitterness, Through persecutions pitiless, They come! They come by paths the martyrs trod, They come from underneath the rod, Climbing through darkness up to God, They come! Out of mighty tribulation, With a sound of jubilation, They come! They come!

From every land beneath the sun, They come! To tell of mighty victories won; Unto the Father through the Son, They come!

They come--the victors in the fight, They come--the blind restored to sight, From deepest Darkness into Light; They come! In a holy exaltation, With a sound of jubilation, They come! They come!

PROCESSIONALS

NORTH

We come from the gloom of the shadowy trail Out away on the fringe of the Night, Where no man could tell, when the darkness fell, If his eyes would behold the light. To--the--Night,-- To--the--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,-- Came--the--Light, Came--the--Light, Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.

There are wanderers still, without ever a guide, Out there on the fringe of the Night, They are bond and blind,--to their darkness resigned, With never a wish for the Light. To--their--Night,-- To--their--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night, Take--the--Light! Take--the--Light! Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!

SOUTH

We come from the land of the blazing sun, From the land that was blacker than night,-- From the white-hot sand of the Great Dark Land, Where Might was the only Right. To--the--Night,-- To--the--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night, Came--the--Light, Came--the--Light, Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.

There are sorrows still, there is darkness still, There are still gross wrongs to set right; There are grim black stains, there are peoples in chains, To be loosed from the grip of the Night. To--their--Night,-- To--their--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night, Take--the--Light! Take--the--Light! Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!

EAST

We come from the East, from the glowing East, Where the Past, with its hand of ice, Still reaches across through its ages of loss, And still holds the land like a vice. To--the--Night,-- To--the--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,-- Came--the--Light, Came--the--Light, Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.

O, the sorrowful ones of the caste-bound lands, How they long for the wider way! How they sigh in the gloom of their close-barred tomb For the Light of the Coming Day! To--their--Night,-- To--their--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night, Take--the--Light, Take--the--Light! Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!

WEST

We come from the Isles, from the Western Isles, From the isles of the sunny seas,-- Where the smiles and the wiles, with which Nature beguiles, Are but shrouds for her tragedies. To--the--Night,-- To--the--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of the Night,-- Came--the--Light, Came--the--Light, Came the Wonder and the Glory of the Light.

There is Darkness more deadly than Death itself, There is Blindness beyond that of sight. There are souls fast bound in the depths profound Of unconscious and heedless Night. To--their--Night,-- To--their--Night,-- To the darkness and the sorrow of their Night, Take--the--Light! Take--the--Light! Take the Wonder and the Glory of the Light!

FAITH

Lord, give me faith!--to live from day to day, With tranquil heart to do my simple part, And, with my hand in Thine, just go Thy way.

Lord, give me faith!--to trust, if not to know; With quiet mind in all things Thee to find, And, child-like, go where Thou wouldst have me go.

Lord, give me faith!--to leave it all to Thee, The future is Thy gift, I would not lift The vail Thy Love has hung 'twixt it and me.

"I WILL!"

Say once again Thy sweet "I will!" In answer to my prayers. "Lord, if Thou wilt!"-- --"I will! Rise up above thy cares!"

A LITTLE TE DEUM OF THE COMMONPLACE

A FRAGMENT

_With hearts responsive And enfranchised eyes, We thank Thee, Lord,--_ For all things beautiful, and good, and true; For things that seemed not good yet turned to good; For all the sweet compulsions of Thy will That chased, and tried, and wrought us to Thy shape; For things unnumbered that we take of right, And value first when first they are withheld; For light and air; sweet sense of sound and smell; For ears to hear the heavenly harmonies; For eyes to see the unseen in the seen; For vision of The Worker in the work; For hearts to apprehend Thee everywhere; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For all the wonders of this wondrous world;-- The pure pearl splendours of the coming day, The breaking east,--the rosy flush,--the Dawn,-- For that bright gem in morning's coronal, That one lone star that gleams above the glow; For that high glory of the impartial sun,-- The golden noonings big with promised life; The matchless pageant of the evening skies. The wide-flung gates,--the gleams of Paradise,-- Supremest visions of Thine artistry; The sweet, soft gloaming, and the friendly stars; The vesper stillness, and the creeping shades; The moon's pale majesty; the pulsing dome, Wherein we feel Thy great heart throbbing near; For sweet laborious days and restful nights; For work to do, and strength to do the work; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For those first tiny, prayerful-folded hands That pierce the winter's crust, and softly bring Life out of death, the endless mystery;-- For all the first sweet flushings of the Spring; The greening earth, the tender heavenly blue; The rich brown furrows gaping for the seed; For all Thy grace in bursting bud and leaf,-- The bridal sweetness of the orchard trees, Rose-tender in their coming fruitfulness; The fragrant snow-drifts flung upon the breeze; The grace and glory of the fruitless flowers, Ambrosial beauty their reward and ours; For hedgerows sweet with hawthorn and wildrose; For meadows spread with gold and gemmed with stars; For every tint of every tiniest flower; For every daisy smiling to the sun; For every bird that builds in joyous hope; For every lamb that frisks beside its dam; For every leaf that rustles in the wind; For spiring poplar, and for spreading oak; For queenly birch, and lofty swaying elm, For the great cedar's benedictory grace; For earth's ten thousand fragrant incenses,-- Sweet altar-gifts from leaf and fruit and flower; For every wondrous thing that greens and grows; For wide-spread cornlands,--billowing golden seas; For rippling stream, and white-laced waterfall; For purpling mountains; lakes like silver shields; For white-piled clouds that float against the blue; For tender green of far-off upland slopes; For fringing forests and far-gleaming spires; For those white peaks, serene and grand and still; For that deep sea--a shallow to Thy love; For round green hills, earth's full benignant breasts; For sun-chased shadows flitting o'er the plain; For gleam and gloom; for all life's counter-change; For hope that quickens under darkening skies; For all we see; for all that underlies,-- _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For that sweet impulse of the coming Spring, For ripening Summer, and the harvesting; For all the rich Autumnal glories spread,-- The flaming pageant of the ripening woods; The fiery gorse, the heather-purpled hills; The rustling leaves that fly before the wind. And lie below the hedgerows whispering; For meadows silver-white with hoary dew; For sheer delight of tasting once again That first crisp breath of winter in the air; The pictured pane; the new white world without; The sparkling hedgerow's witchery of lace; The soft white flakes that fold the sleeping earth; The cold without, the cheerier warmth within; For red-heart roses in the winter snows; For all the flower and fruit of Christmas-tide; For all the glowing heart of Christmas-tide; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For all Thy ministries,-- For morning mist, and gently-falling dew; For summer rains, for winter ice and snow; For whispering wind and purifying storm; For the reft clouds that show the tender blue; For the forked flash and long tumultuous roll; For mighty rains that wash the dim earth clean; For the sweet promise of the seven-fold bow; For the soft sunshine, and the still calm night; For dimpled laughter of soft summer seas; For latticed splendour of the sea-borne moon; For gleaming sands, and granite-frontled cliffs; For flying spume, and waves that whip the skies; For rushing gale, and for the great glad calm; For Might so mighty, and for Love so true, With equal mind, _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For maiden sweetness, and for strength of men; For love's pure madness and its high estate; For parentage--man's nearest reach to Thee; For kinship, sonship, friendship, brotherhood Of men--one Father--one great family; For glimpses of the greater in the less; For touch of Thee in wife and child and friend; For noble self-denying motherhood; For saintly maiden lives of rare perfume; For little pattering feet and crooning songs; For children's laughter, and sweet wells of truth; For sweet child-faces and the sweet wise tongues; For childhood's faith that lifts us near to Thee And bows us with our own disparity; For childhood's sweet unconscious beauty sleep; For all that childhood teaches us of Thee; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For doubts that led us to the larger trust; For ills to conquer; for the love that fights; For that strong faith that vanquished axe and flame And gave us Freedom for our heritage; For clouds and darkness, and the still, small voice; For sorrows bearing fruit of nobler life; For those sore strokes that broke us at Thy feet; For peace in strife; for gain in seeming loss; For every loss that wrought the greater gain; For that sweet juice from bitterness out-pressed; For all this sweet, strange paradox of life; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For friends above; for friends still left below; For the rare links invisible between; For Thine unsearchable greatness; for the vails Between us and the things we may not know; For those high times when hearts take wing and rise And float secure above earth's mysteries; For that wide, open avenue of prayer, All radiant with Thy glorious promises; For sweet hearts tuned to noblest charity; For great hearts toiling in the outer dark; For friendly hands stretched out in time of need; For every gracious thought and word and deed; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For songbird answering song on topmost bough; For myriad twitterings of the simpler folk; For that sweet lark that carols up the sky; For that low fluting on the summer night; For distant bells that tremble on the wind; For great round organ tones that rise and fall, Entwined with earthly voices tuned to heaven, And bear our hearts above the high-arched roof; For Thy great voice that dominates the whole, And shakes the heavens, and silences the earth; For hearts alive to earth's sweet minstrelsies; For souls attuned to heavenly harmonies; For apprehension, and for ears to hear,-- _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For that supremest token of Thy Love,-- Thyself made manifest in human flesh; For that pure life beneath the Syrian sky-- The humble toil, the sweat, the bench, the saw, The nails well-driven, and the work well-done; For all its vast expansions; for the stress Of those three mighty years; For all He bore of our humanity; His hunger, thirst, His homelessness and want, His weariness that longed for well-earned rest; For labour's high ennoblement through Him, Who laboured with His hands for daily bread; For Lazarus, Mary, Martha, Magdalene, For Nazareth and Bethany;--not least For that dark hour in lone Gethsemane; For that high cross upraised on Calvary; The broken seals,--the rolled-back stone--The Way, For ever opened through His life in death; For that brief glimpse vouchsafed within the vail; For all His gracious life; and for His Death, With low-bowed heads and hearts impassionate, _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For all life's beauties, and their beauteous growth; For Nature's laws and Thy rich providence; For all Thy perfect processes of life; For the minute perfection of Thy work, Seen and unseen, in each remotest part; For faith, and works, and gentle charity; For all that makes for quiet in the world; For all that lifts man from his common rut; For all that knits the silken bond of peace; For all that lifts the fringes of the night, And lights the darkened corners of the earth; For every broken gate and sundered bar; For every wide-flung window of the soul; For that Thou bearest all that Thou hast made; _We thank Thee, Lord_!

For perfect childlike confidence in Thee; For childlike glimpses of the life to be; For trust akin to my child's trust in me; For hearts at rest through confidence in Thee; For hearts triumphant in perpetual hope; For hope victorious through past hopes fulfilled; For mightier hopes born of the things we know; For faith born of the things we may not know; For hope of powers increased ten thousand fold; For that last hope of likeness to Thyself, When hope shall end in glorious certainty; --_With quickened hearts That find Thee everywhere, We thank Thee, Lord_!

POLICEMAN X

IF HE WOULD BUT DARE

I stood, unseen, within a sumptous room, Where one clothed all in white sat silently. So sweet his presence that a pure soft light Rayed from him, and I saw--most wondrous sight!-- The Love of God shrined in the flesh once more, And glowing softly like a misted sun. His back was towards me. Had I seen his face Methought I must have fallen. I was wrong. The door flung wide. With hasty step Came one in royal robes and all the pride And pomp of majesty, and on his head A helmet with an eagle poised for flight. He stood amazed at sight of him in white, His lips apart in haughty questioning. But no words came. Breathless, he raised his hand And gave salute as to a mightier lord, And doffed his helm, and stood. And in his eyes I saw The reflex glory of his Master's face.

The Master spoke. His voice so soft and sweet Thrilled my heart's core and shook me where I stood,-- "_Time runs apace. The New Time is at hand. Shall it be Peace or War? It rests with_ THEE." In dumb amaze the other shook his head. "_Thy brother of the North has cast his lot For peace. Alone he cannot compass it. Shall it be Peace or War? It rests with_ THEE." Again the other shook his head amazed, But never swerved a hair's breadth in his gaze. "_Shall it be Peace or War? Join hands with him, Thy Northern brother, with the Western Isles, And with their brethren of the Further West, And Peace shall reign to Earth's remotest bound_." And still the other shook his head amazed. "_Shall it be Peace or War? Millions of lives Are in thy hand, women and men and those My little ones. Their souls are mine. Their lives Are in thy hand. Of thee I shall require them. Shall it be Peace or War_?"

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