Slike strani
PDF
ePub

Let Love, the world's beginning,

End fear and hate and sinning;

Let Love, the God Eternal, be worshiped in all climes

When Christmas bells are pelting the air with silver chimes.

THE RIVER.

AM a river flowing from God's sea

Through devious ways.

for me;

He mapped my course

I cannot change it; mine alone the toil

To keep the waters free from grime and soil.
The winding river ends where it began;
And when my life has compassed its brief span

I must return to that mysterious source.
So let me gather daily on my course
The perfume from the blossoms as I pass,

Balm from the pines, and healing from the grass,
And carry down my current as I go

Not common stones but precious gems to show;
And tears (the holy water from sad eyes)

Back to God's sea, from which all rivers rise.
Let me convey, not blood from wounded hearts,
Nor poison which the upas tree imparts.
When over flowery vales I leap with joy,
Let me not devastate them, nor destroy,
But rather leave them fairer to the sight;
Mine be the lot to comfort and delight.
And if down awful chasms I needs must leap
Let me not murmur at my lot, but sweep
On bravely to the end without one fear,

Knowing that He who planned my ways stands

near.

Love sent me forth, to Love I go again,

For Love is all, and over all.

Amen.

THE

SORRY.

HERE is much that makes me sorry as I journey down life's way,

And I seem to see more pathos in poor human lives each day.

I'm sorry for the strong, brave men, who shield the weak from harm,

But who, in their own troubled hours, find no protecting arm.

I'm sorry for the victors who have reached success, to stand

As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure's hand.

I'm sorry for the generous hearts who freely shared their wine,

But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune's drear decline.

I'm sorry for the souls who build their own fame's funeral pyre,

Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding fire.

I'm sorry for the conquering ones who know not sin's defeat,

But daily tread down fierce desire 'neath scorched and bleeding feet.

I'm sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passion's strain,

But I'm sorrier for the poor starved souls that never

knew love's pain,

Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave,

For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o'er a

grave.

I'm sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed into

birth,

I'm sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the

earth,

I'm sorry for the suffering poor in life's great mael-, strom hurled,

In truth I'm sorry for them all who make this aching world.

But underneath whate'er seems sad and is not understood,

I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty germ

of good.

And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon, motto, text

The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest in the next.

« PrejšnjaNaprej »