Chapter 4

‘I don’t want any New Thought,’ said he, ‘Or any Theosophy, for, you see, The faith I learned at my mother’s knee Is good enough for me. Of course, I’m a wee bit broader than she, Hearing one sermon where she heard three, And I read my paper on Sunday, instead Of the Bible only. My mother said I was a black sheep, when she saw I strayed a trifle away from the law, And didn’t think every one left in the lurch Who happened to go to a different church; But, still, in the main, her creed is mine, And I don’t want anything more divine.’ Yet his mother’s mother was more austere; She taught her children a creed of fear, And she called them ‘black sheep’ when, with a shock, She saw them straying away from the flock, Just far enough To get around places they thought too rough, Like infant damnation and endless hell.

But his mother’s mother’s mother would tell How her mother thought it was God’s sweet will To punish and torture a heretic till They drove out the devil that made him dare Think for himself in the matter of prayer And faith and salvation. So we see how it is If we look back over the centuries— The creeds men learned at their mother’s knee When Salem witches were hanged to a tree, And the pious dames flocked thither to see, Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day; And the bold black sheep who went straying away From rut-worn paths in their search for God, And leaped over the fence into pastures broad, Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls, Leading the race up to higher goals And a larger religion; where man must find God dwelling ever within his mind, Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought, And hell but the places where love is not. A mighty religion that makes this earth But the cradle that fits us for death’s new birth And the life beyond it, that is so near Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.

‘_Black sheep_, _black sheep_, _have you any wool_?’ ‘_Yes_, _sir_—_yes_, _sir_: _a whole world full_.’

ONE BY ONE

Little by little and one by one, Out of the ether, were worlds created; Star and planet and sea and sun, All in the nebulous Nothing waited Till the Nameless One Who has many a name Called them to being and forth they came.

All things mighty and all things small, Stone and flower and sentient being, Each is an answer to that one call, A part of Himself that His will is freeing— Freeing to go on the long, long way That winds back home at the end of the day.

Little by little does mortal man Build his castles for joy and glory, And one by one time shatters each plan And lowers his palaces, story by story— Story by story, till earth is just A row of graves in the lowly dust.

One by one, whatever was called, Must be called back to the primal Centre. Let no soul tremble or be appalled, For the heart of the Maker is where we enter— Is where we enter to gain new force Before we are sent on another course.

And one by one, as He calls us back, We shall find the souls that we loved with passion, In the great way-stations along the track, And clasp them again in the old, sweet fashion— In the old, sweet fashion when earth we trod— And journey along with them up to God.

PRAYER

_Lord_, _let us pray_.

Give us the open mind, O God, The mind that dares believe In paths of thought as yet untrod; The mind that can conceive Large visions of a wider way Than circumscribes our world to-day.

May tolerance temper our own faith, However great our zeal; When others speak of life and death, Let us not plunge a steel Into the heart of one who talks In terms we deem unorthodox.

Help us to send our thoughts through space, Where worlds in trillions roll, Each fashioned for its time and place, Each portion of the whole; Till our weak minds may feel a sense Of Thy Supreme Omnipotence.

Let us not shame Thee with a creed That builds a costly church, But blinds us to a brother’s need Because he dares to search For truth in his own soul and heart And finds his church in home and mart.

_Give us the faith that makes us kind_, _Give us the open sight and mind_— _O God_, _the often mind_ _That lifts itself to meet the Ray_ _Of the New Dawning Day_: _Lord_, _let us pray_.

BE NOT DISMAYED

Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face. Poor human nature for a little space Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith Fail for a moment in God’s boundless grace. But know, oh know, He has prepared a place Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath, Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres Surround our earth as seas a barren isle. Ours is the region of eternal fears; Theirs is the region where God’s radiant smile Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope Even to those who in the shadows grope. They are not far from us. At first though long And lone may seem the paths that intervene, If ever on the staff of prayer we lean The silence will grow eloquent with song And our weak faith with certitude wax strong. Intense, yet tranquil; fervent, yet serene, He must be who would contact World Unseen And comrade with their Amaranthine throng; Not through the tossing waves of surging grief Come spirit-ships to port. When storms subside, Then with their precious cargoes of relief Into the harbour of the heart they glide. For him who will believe and trust and wait Death’s austere silence grows articulate.

ASCENSION

I have been down in the darkest water— Deep, deep down where no light could pierce; Alone with the things that are bent on slaughter, The mindless things that are cruel and fierce. I have fought with fear in my wave-walled prison, And begged for the beautiful boon of death; But out of the billows my soul has risen To glorify God with my latest breath.

There is no potion I have not tasted Of all the bitters in life’s large store; And never a drop of the gall was wasted That the lords of Karma saw fit to pour, Though I cried as my Elder Brother before me, ‘Father in heaven, let pass this cup!’ And the only response from the still skies o’er me Was the brew held close for my lips to sup.

Yet I have grown strong on the gall Elysian, And a courage has come that all things dares; And I have been given an inner vision Of the wonderful world where my dear one fares; And I have had word from the great Hereafter— A marvellous message that throbs with truth, And mournful weeping has changed to laughter, And grief has changed into the joy of youth.

Oh! there was a time when I supped sweet potions, And lightly uttered profound belief, Before I went down in the swirling oceans And fought with madness and doubt and grief. Now I am climbing the Hills of Knowledge, And I speak unfearing, and say ‘I know,’ Though it be not to church, or to book, or college, But to God Himself that my debt I owe.

For the ceaseless prayer of a soul is heeded, When the prayer asks only for light and faith; And the faith and the light and the knowledge needed Shall gild with glory the path to death. Oh! heart of the world by sorrow shaken, Hear ye the message I have to give: The seal from the lips of the dead is taken, And they can say to you, ‘Lo! we live.’

THE DEADLIEST SIN

There are not many sins when once we sift them. In actions of evolving human souls Striving to reach high goals And falling backward into dust and mire, Some element we find that seems to lift them Above our condemnation—even higher Into the realm of pity and compassion. So beauteous a thing as love itself can fashion A chain of sins; descending to desire, It wanders into dangerous paths, and leads To most unholy deeds, And light-struck, walks in madness toward the night.

Wrong oft-times is an over-ripened right, A rank weed grown from some neglected flower, The lightning uncontrolled: flames meant for joy And beauty, used to ravage and destroy. For sins like these repentance can atone. There is one sin alone Which seems all unforgivable, because It springs from no temptation and no need And no desire, save to make sweet faith bleed, And to defame God’s laws. Oh! viler than the murderer or the thief Who slays the body and who robs the purse, Is he who strives to kill the mind’s belief And rob it of its hope Of life beyond this little pain-filled span. God has no curse Quite dark enough to punish such a man, Who, seeing how souls grope And suffer in this world of mighty losses, And how hearts stagger on beneath life’s crosses, Yet strives to rob them of their staff of faith And make them think dark death Ends all existence; think the worshipped child Cold in its mother’s arms is but a clod And has not gone to God; That souls united by love undefiled And holy can by death be torn asunder To meet no more. It must be true that under This earth of ours there lies a Purgatory For those who seek to rob grief of the glory That shines through hope of life immortal. In Sin’s lexicon this is the vilest sin— Needless and cruel, ugly, gaunt and mean, Without one poor excuse on which to lean, A vandal sin, that with no hope of gain Finds pleasure only in another’s pain.

God! though all other sins on earth persist, Strike dumb the blatant, loud-mouthed atheist.

THE RAINBOW OF PROMISE

In the face of the sun are great thunderbolts hurled, And the storm-clouds have shut out its light; But a Rainbow of Promise now shines on the world, And the universe thrills at the sight.

’Tis the flag of our Union, the red, white, and blue, Our Star-spangled Banner—our pride; Fair symbol of all that is noble and true, Flung out over continents wide.

Flung out in its glory o’er land and o’er sea, With a message from God in each star; And a glorious promise of peace yet to be In the fluttering folds of each bar.

A Rainbow of Promise, bright emblem of hope, Fair flag of each cause that is just; No longer in doubt or in darkness we grope— In the Star-spangled Banner we trust.

THEY SHALL NOT WIN

Whatever the strength of our foes is now, Whatever it may have been, This is our slogan, and this our vow— They shall not win, they shall not win.

Though out of the darkness they call the aid Of the evil forces of Sin, We utter our slogan unafraid— They shall not win, they shall not win.

We know we are right, and know they are wrong, So to God above and within— We make our vow and we sing our song They shall not win, they shall not win.

It rises over the shriek of shell, And over the cannons’ din: Our slogan shall scatter the hosts of Hell— They shall not win, they shall not win.

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