Chapter 4
My faith refuses to accept the ‘fall’! It sees man ever as a child of God, Growing in wisdom as new realms are trod, Until the Christ in him is One with All. From this full consciousness my faith is borrowing Light to illuminate Life’s darkest sorrowing, Whatever woes assail me still I cry: ‘God reigns on high! He doeth all things well.’
My faith finds prayer the language of the heart, Which gives us converse with the host unseen; And those who linger in the vales between The Here and Yonder, in these prayers take part. My dead come near, and say: ‘Death means not perishing; Cherish us in your thoughts, for by that cherishing Shall severed links be welded by and by.’ ‘God reigns on high! Whatever is, is best.’
ARROW AND BOW
It is easy to stand in the pulpit, or in the closet to kneel, And say: ‘God do this; God do that!— Make the world better; relieve the sorrows of man; for the sake of Thy Son, Oh, forgive all sin!’ Then, having planned out God’s work, to feel Our duty is done. It is easy to be religious this way— Easy to pray.
It is harder to stand on the highway, or walk in the crowded mart; And say: ‘I am He. I am He. ‘Mine the world-burden; mine the sorrows of men; mine the Christ-work ‘To forgive my brother’s sin,’ and then to live the Christ-part and never to shirk. It is hard for you and me To be religious this way, Day after day.
But God is no longer in heaven; we drove Him out with our prayers, Drove Him out with our sermons and creeds, and our endless plaints and despairs. He came down over the borders, and Christ, too, came along; They are looking the whole world over to see just what is wrong. God has grown weary of hearing His praises sung on earth; And Jesus is weary of hearing the story about His birth; And the way to win Their favour, that is surer than any other, Is to join in a song of Brotherhood and praises of one another.
No; God is no longer in heaven; He has come down on earth to see That nothing is wrong with the world He made; _the wrong is in you and me_. He meant the earth for a garden-spot, where mill and factory stand; Childhood, he meant for growing-time—but look at the toiling band! Woman was meant for mother and mate—now look at the slaves of lust. And the good folks shake their heads and say, ‘We must pray to God and trust.’ God has a billion books of our prayers unopened upon his shelves, For the things we are begging Him to do, He wants us to do ourselves.
Jehovah, Jesus, and each soul in space Are one and undividable. Until We see God shining in each neighbour’s face And find Him in ourselves and hail Him there, What use is prayer? Let us be still. How can we love the whole and not each part? How worship God, and harbour in the heart Hate of God’s members—for all men are that. Too long our souls have sat, Like poor blind beggars at the door of God. He never made a beggar—we are kings!
Let us rise up, for it is time we trod The mountain-tops; time that we did the things We have so long asked God to do. He waits for you To look deep in your brother’s eyes and see The God within; To hear you say ‘Lo, thou art He; Lo, thou art He.’ This is the only way to end all sin, The difficult, one way.
_A prayer without a deed is an arrow without a bow-string_; _A deed without a prayer is a bow-string without an arrow_. _The heart of a man should be like a quiver full of arrows_, _And the hand of a man should be like a strong bow strung for action_. _The heart of a man should keep his arrows ever ascending_, _And the hand and the mind of a man should keep at a work unending_.
IF WE SHOULD MEET HIM
Now what were the words of Jesus, And what would He pause and say, If we were to meet in home or street The Lord of the world to-day? Oh, I think He would pause and say, ‘Go on with your chosen labour; Speak only good of your neighbour; Widen your farms, and lay down your arms, Or dig up the soil with each sabre.’
Now what were the answer of Jesus If we should ask for a creed To carry us straight through the wonderful gate When soul from body is freed? Oh, I think He would give us this creed: ‘Praise God, whatever betide you; Cast joy on the lives beside you; Better the earth, by growing in worth, With love as the law to guide you.’
Now what were the answer of Jesus If we should ask Him to tell Of the last great goal of the homing soul, Where each of us hopes to dwell. Oh, I think it is this He would tell: ‘The soul is the builder—then wake it; The mind is the kingdom—then take it; And thought upon thought let Eden be wrought, For heaven will be what you make it.’
FAITH
Let a valiant Faith cross swords with Death, And Death is certain to fall; For the dead arise with joy in their eyes— They were not dead at all. If this were only a world of chance, Then faith, with its strong white spark Could burn through the sod and fashion a God, And set Him to shine in the dark.
So in troublesome days, and in shadowy ways, In the dire and difficult time, We must cling, we must cling to our Faith, and bring Our courage to heights sublime. It is not a matter of hugging a creed That will lift us up to the light, But in keeping our trust that Love is just, And that whatever is, is right.
When the hopes of this world into chaos are hurled, And the devil seems running the earth, When the bad folks stay and the good pass away, And greed fares better than worth, Oh, that is the hour to trust in the Power That will straighten the tangle out; For death and sorrow are little things, But a terrible thing is doubt.
THE SECRET OF PRAYER
For he who climbs to say his prayer Meets half way the descending Grace.
ELSA BARKER, in _British Review_.
This is the secret of all prayers That in God’s sight have worth, They must be uttered from the stairs That wind away from earth; And he who mounts to speak the word, He shall be heard. He shall be heard.
And he who will not leave himself, But stays down with his cares, Or with his thoughts of pride and pelf, Though loud and long his prayers, Beyond earth’s dome of arching skies They shall not rise. They shall not rise.
Oh, ye who seek for strength and power Seek first some quiet spot, And fashion through a silent hour Your stairway, thought by thought; Then climb, and pray to God on high: He shall reply. He shall reply.
THE ANSWER
Up to the gates of gleaming Pearl, There came the spirit of a girl, And to the white-robed Guard she said: ‘Dear Angel, am I truly dead? Just yonder, lying on my bed, I heard them say it; and they wept. And after that, methinks I slept. Then when I woke, I saw your face, And suddenly was in this place. It seems a pleasant place to be, Yet earth was fair enough to me. What is there here, to do, or see? Will I see God, dear Angel, say? And is He very far away?’
The Angel said, ‘You are in truth What men call dead. That word to youth Is full of terror; but it means Only a change of tasks, and scenes. You have been brought to us because Of certain ancient karmic laws Set into motion æons gone. By us you will be guided on From plane to plane, and sphere to sphere, Until your tasks are finished here. Then back to earth, the home of man, To work again another span.’
‘But, Angel, when will I see God?’
‘After the final path is trod; After you no more long, or crave, To see, or hear, or own, or have Aught beside—HIM. Then shall His face Reveal itself to you in space. And you shall find yourself made one With that Great Sun, behind the sun. Child, go thy way inside the gate, Where many eager loved ones wait. Death is but larger life begun.’
A VISION
My soul beheld a vision of the Master: Methought He stood with grieved and questioning eyes, Where Freedom drove its chariot to disaster And toilers heard, unheeding, toilers’ cries. Where man withheld God’s bounties from his neighbour, And fertile fields were sterilised by greed; Where Labour’s hand was lifted against labour, And suffering serfs to despots turned when freed.
Majestic rose tall steeple after steeple; Imperious bells called worshippers to prayer; But as they passed, the faces of the people Were marred by envy, anger and despair. ‘Christ the Redeemer of the world has risen, Peace and good will,’ so rang the major strain; But forth from sweat-shops, tenement and prison Wailed minor protests, redolent with pain.
Methought about the Master, all unseeing, Fought desperate hosts of striking clan with clan, Their primal purpose, meant for labour’s freeing, Sunk in vindictive hate of man for man. Pretentious Wealth, in unearned robes of beauty, Flung Want a pittance from her bulging purse, While ill-paid Toil went on dull rounds of duty, Hell in her heart, and on her lips a curse.
Then spoke the Christ (so wondrous was my vision) (Deep, deep, His voice, with sorrow’s cadence fraught): ‘This world to-day would be a realm elysian Had my disciples lived the love I taught. Un-Christlike is the Christian creed men fashion Who kneel to worship, and who rise to slay. Profane pretenders of my holy Passion, Ye nail Me newly to the cross each day.’
THE SECOND COMING
How will Christ come back again, How will He be seen, and where, Where His chosen way? Will He come in dead of night, Shining in His robes of light, Or at dawn of day?
Will it be at Christmas time, When the bells are all achime, That He is re-born? Or will He return and bring Wide and wondrous wakening On some Easter morn?
When will this sad world rejoice, Listening to that golden voice Speaking unto men? Lives there one who yet shall cry Loud to startled passers-by— ‘Christ has come again?’
List the answer—Christ is here! Seek and you shall find him near— Dwelling on the earth. By the world’s awakened thought, This great miracle is wrought, This the second birth.
While you wonder where and now Christ shall come—behold him _now_, Patient, loving, meek. Looking from your neighbour’s eyes, Or in humble toiling guise— Lo! the Christ you seek.
Look for him in human hearts, In the shops, and in the marts, And beside your hearth. Search and speak the watchword Love, And the Christ shall rise and prove He has come to earth.
Sorrowful ofttimes is He That we have not eyes to see, Have not ears to hear, As we call to Him afar, Out beyond some distant star, While He stands so near.
Seek Him, seek Him, where He dwells, Chime the voices of the bells On the Christmas air. Christ has come to earth again, He is in the hearts of men, Seek and find him there.
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