  I have often thought there's a power Unknown to science or art, That opens and closes the portals That lead to the human heart. I have learned there's a secret something That remains yet undefined, That touches the springs and pulleys That open the human mind. I have watched the glow of faces, As a light from this occult source Has touched some inert nature With an energizing force. The effect was so magnetic, It seemed like creative skill From the hand of the Great Master, To give passive being will. Sometimes its power seemed but presence, Sometimes, a soft, mild tone, Sometimes, a look of decision, Ofttimes, from a source unknown. There's a something wrapped in th' nature Of those most adapted to teach That charms and holds the attention Of those whom its powers reach. There's a sound from some vibration Within the human voice That arouses the latent spirit And makes the soul rejoice. Its tone has a magic power Whereby the heart is impressed With the weight of its noble mission And unselfish interest. There's a mystic charm most winsome In th' glance of a speaking eye Whose light shines in dark recesses And explores them in passing by. It illumines the page of the student As his soul warms by its fire, And stirs him to greater action, And lifts aspirations higher. Every word and look and action Has weight on trustful youth, That needs no sage to interpret Or explain its vital truth. They are fully comprehended Through the instinct, every one, And need no labored searching In a massive lexicon. Some call this power attraction, Some term it affinity, But all recognize its existence And wonderful potency. There's also a power of repulsion That breathes with abated breath, Whose presence is best betokened By ominous signs of death. No word has an inspiration, No look has a sign of cheer, Each act reveals that a burden Must be borne in sorrow and fear. The wrecks that are made by its presence Have filled almshouses and jails With the deepest of lamentations, The saddest of human wails. A selfish, terrible monster That drives away honor and truth Is the cold-blooded fiend Repulsion, The destroyer of tender youth. The sea in its frenzy and fury, When lashed by the wintry gales Casts on the rocks its vessels Bereft of their spars and sails; The path of the fierce tornado, Overstrewn with wild debris Of fallen habitations And uprooted forest tree; The wreck of a world of matter That transforms revolving spheres, Which have gathered all their greatness Through the lapse of a million years; The snow-clad mountain terror— The fearful avalanche— Whose thunders are heard in valleys Where imploring faces blanch; The mouth of a raging Etna With its stifling breath of fire, Wherein the pride of a city In a moment may expire; The trembling of the mountains When an earthquake passes by, And the terror of the people Struck dumb in their agony; The rage of a foaming torrent, After the bursting cloud Has poured its liquid fury In destruction wild and loud; Are but the potent protests Of Nature's elements Against some ill arrangement That brings them discontents. But these in separate actions, Or in forces all combined, Leave not so sad a ruin As the wreck of one human mind. The voice, the eye, and the manner Are all unlocked by a key That has for its great attraction A confiding sympathy. The knowledge of books is essential To those who youth would guide, But the grace of earnest endeavor Excels all else beside. Truth in its plainness is beauty, Science itself is a charm, But the frown of a tyrant tutor Puts both in constant alarm. To receive a healthful impression, Mind must be free from fear, Will must be held by attraction, Soul, by a soul sincere. |
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