  BIRTH.Lord, I am born! I have built me a body Whose ways are all open, Whose currents run free, From the life that is thine Flowing ever within me, To the life that is mine Flowing outward through me. I am clothed, and my raiment Fits smooth to the spirit, The soul moves unhindered, The body is free; And the thought that my body Falls short of expressing, In texture and color Unfoldeth on me. I am housed, O my Father! My body is sheltered, My spirit has room ’Twixt the whole world and me, I am guarded with beauty and strength, And within it Is room for still union, And birth floweth free. Of the house, ever growing, Have built me a city— Have born me a state— Where I live manifold, Many-voiced, many-hearted, Never dead, never weary, And oh! never parted! The life of The Human, So subtle—so great! Lord, I am born! From inmost to outmost The ways are all open, The currents run free, From thy voice in my soul To my joy in the people— I thank thee, O God, For this body thou gavest, Which enfoldeth the earth— Is enfolded by thee! NATURE’S ANSWER.I. A man would build a house, and found a place As fair as any on the earth’s fair face: And cool tree-shaded lakes the hills between. He built his house within this pleasant land, A stately white-porched house, long years to stand; But, rising from his paradise so fair, Came fever in the night and killed him there. “O lovely land!” he cried, “how could I know That death was lurking under this fair show?” And answered Nature, merciful and stern, “I teach by killing; let the others learn!” II. A man would do great work, good work and true; He gave all things he had, all things he knew; He worked for all the world; his one desire To make the people happier, better, higher; Used his best wisdom, used his utmost strength; And, dying in the struggle, found at length, The giant evils he had fought the same, And that the world he loved scarce knew his name. “Has all my work been wrong? I meant so well! I loved so much!” he cried. “How could I tell?” And answered Nature, merciful and stern, “I teach by killing; let the others learn.” A maid was asked in marriage. Wise as fair, She gave her answer with deep thought and prayer, Expecting, in the holy name of wife, Great work, great pain, and greater joy, in life. She found such work as brainless slaves might do, By day and night, long labor, never through; Such pain—no language can her pain reveal; It had no limit but her power to feel; Such joy—life left in her sad soul’s employ Neither the hope nor memory of joy. Helpless, she died, with one despairing cry,— “I thought it good; how could I tell the lie?” And answered Nature, merciful and stern, “I teach by killing; let the others learn.” THE COMMONPLACE.Life is so weary commonplace! Too fair Were those young visions of the poet and seer. Nothing exciting ever happens here. Just eat and drink, and dress and chat; Life is so tedious, slow, and flat, And every day alike in everywhere! The breathing re-creation of the earth! All earth, all sky, all God, life’s deep sweet whole, Newborn again to each new soul! “Oh, are you? What a shame! Too bad, my dear! How well you stand it, too! It’s very queer The dreadful trials women have to carry; But you can’t always help it when you marry. Oh, what a sweet layette! What lovely socks! What an exquisite puff and powder box! Who is your doctor? Yes, his skill’s immense— But it’s a dreadful danger and expense!” Love comes. Love— And the world widens at the touch thereof; Deepens and lightens till the answer true To all life’s questions seems to glimmer through. “Engaged? I knew it must be! What a ring! Worth how much? Well, you are a lucky thing! But how was Jack disposed of?” “Jack? Oh, he Was just as glad as I was to be free. You might as well ask after George and Joe And all the fellows that I used to know! I don’t inquire for his past Kate and Carry— Every one’s pleased. It’s time, you know, to marry.” Life comes. Life— Bearing within it wisdom, work, and strife. To find life’s widest purpose in our growing. “How are you, Jim? Pleasant weather to-day! How’s business?” “Well, it doesn’t come my way.” “Good-morning, Mrs. Smith! I hope you’re well! Tell me the news!” “The news? There’s none to tell. The cook has left; the baby’s got a tooth; John has gone fishing to renew his youth. House-cleaning’s due—or else we’ll have to move! How sweet you are in that! Good-bye, my love!” Death comes. Death— Love cries to love, and no man answereth. Death the beginning, Death the endless end, Life’s proof and first condition, Birth’s best friend. “Yes, it’s a dreadful loss! No coming back! Never again! How do I look in black? And then he suffered so! Oh, yes, we
Or when the Man of Sorrows came, And blessed the people who cursed his name— Preach about yesterday, Preacher! Not about to-day! Preach about to-morrow, Preacher! Beyond this world’s decay: Of the sheepfold Paradise we priced When we pinned our faith to Jesus Christ; Of those hot depths that shall receive The goats who would not so believe— Preach about to-morrow, Preacher, Not about to-day! Preach about the old sins, Preacher! And the old virtues, too: You must not covet your neighbor’s wife, And woman must cling at every cost To her one virtue, or she is lost— Preach about the old sins, Preacher! Not about the new! Preach about the other man, Preacher! The man we all can see! The man of oaths, the man of strife, The man who drinks and beats his wife, Who helps his mates to fret and shirk When all they need is to keep at work— Preach about the other man, Preacher! Not about me! A TYPE.I am too little, said the Wretch, For any one to see. Among the million men who do This thing that I am doing too, Why should they notice me? My sin is common as to breathe; It rests on every back. And surely I am not to blame Where everybody does the same,— Am not a bit more black! In a universal crime, Thinking that no reproach could fall On one who shared the fault of all, Who did it all the time. Then Genius came, and showed the world What thing it was they did; How their offence had reached the poles With stench of slain unburied souls, And all men cowered and hid. Then Genius took that one poor Wretch For now the time was ripe; Stripped him of every shield and blind, And nailed him up for all mankind To study—as a type! COMPROMISE.It is well to fight and win— If that may be; It is well to fight and die therein— For such go free; It is ill to fight and find no grave But a prison-cell; To keep alive, yet live a slave— Praise those who fell! With arms laid by, Bannerless, helpless, no command, No battle-cry. They live to save unvalued breath, With lowered eyes; In place of victory, or death,— A compromise! PART OF THE BATTLE.There is a moment when with splendid joy, With flashing blade and roar of thundering guns And colors waving wide where triumph stands, The last redoubt is carried; we have won! This is the battle! We have conquered now! But the long hours of marching in the sun, The longer hours of waiting in the dark, Deadly dishonored work of hidden spy, The dull details of commissariat, Food, clothing, medicine, the hospital, The way the transportation mules are fed,— These are the battle too, and victory’s price. And we, in days when no attack is feared And none is hoped,—no sudden courage called,— Should strengthen our intrenchments quietly, Feeling the while, not “When will battle come?” But, “This is battle! We are conquering now!” STEP FASTER, PLEASE.Of all most aggravating things, If you are hot in haste, Is to have a man in front of you With half a day to waste. There is this one thing that justifies The man in the foremost place: The fact that he is the man in front, The leader of the race. But, for Heaven’s sake, if you are ahead, Don’t dawdle at your ease! You set the pace for the man behind; Step faster, please! A NEW YEAR’S REMINDER.Better have a tender conscience for the record of your house, And your own share in the work which they have done, Though your private conscience aches With your personal mistakes, And you don’t amount to very much alone, Your domestic habits wholly free from blame, While the company you stand with Is a thing to curse a land with, And your public life is undiluted shame. For the deeds men do together are what saves the world to-day— By our common public work we stand or fall— And your fraction of the sin Of the office you are in Is the sin that’s going to damn you, after all! OUT OF PLACE.Cell, poor little cell, Distended with pain, Torn with the pressure Of currents of effort Resisted in vain; Feeling sweep by you The stream of nutrition, Unab
/a> THE LIVING GOD.The Living God. The God that made the world Made it, and stood aside to watch and wait, Arranging a predestined plan To save the erring soul of man— Undying destiny—unswerving fate. I see his hand in the path of life, His law to doom and save, His love divine in the hopes that shine Beyond the sinner’s grave, His care that sendeth sun and rain, His wisdom giving rest, His price of sin that we may not win The heaven of the blest. Not near enough! Not clear enough! O God, come nearer still! I long for thee! Be strong for me! Teach me to know thy will! The Living God. The God that makes the world, Makes it—is making it in all its worth; His spirit speaking sure and slow In the real universe we know,— God living in the earth. I feel his breath in the blowing wind, His pulse in the swinging sea, And the sunlit sod is the breast of God His tenderness in the springing grass, His beauty in the flowers, His living love in the sun above,— All here, and near, and ours! Not near enough! Not clear enough! O God, come nearer still! I long for thee! Be strong for me! Teach me to know thy will! The Living God. The God that is the world. The world? The world is man,—the work of man. Then—dare I follow what I see?— Then—by thy Glory—it must be That we are in thy plan? That strength divine in the work we do? That love in our mothers’ eyes? That wisdom clear in our thinking here? That power to help us rise? God in the daily work we’ve done, In the daily path we’ve trod? Stand still, my heart, for I am a part— I too—of the Living God! Ah, clear as light! As near! As bright! O God! My God! My Own! Command thou me! I stand for thee! And I do not stand alone! A PRAYER.O God! I cannot ask thee to forgive; I have done wrong. Thy law is just; thy law must live,— Whoso doth wrong must suffer pain. But help me to do right again,— Again be strong. GIVE WAY!Shall we not open the human heart, Swing the doors till the hinges start; Stop our worrying doubt and din, Hunting heaven and dodging sin? There is no need to search so wide, Open the door and stand aside— Let God in! Shall we not open the human heart To loving labor in field and mart; Working together for all about, The glad, large labor that knows not doubt? Can He be held in our narrow rim? Do the work that is work for Him— Let God out! Shall we not open the human heart, Never to close and stand apart? God is a thing you have to do! God can never be caught by prayer, Hid in your heart and fastened there— Let God through! THANKSGIVING HYMN. |
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