THE

WHICH ARE YOU?

HERE are two kinds of people on earth to-day;
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.

Not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood, The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth,

You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span, Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean, Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses Are always divided in just these two classes.

And, oddly enough, you will find too, I ween,
There's only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Or are you a leaner, who lets others share
Your portion of labor, and worry and care?

THE CREED TO BE.

UR thoughts are molding unmade spheres,
And, like a blessing or a curse,

They thunder down the formless years,
And ring throughout the universe.

We build our futures, by the shape
Of our desires, and not by acts.
There is no pathway of escape;

No priest-made creeds can alter fac

Salvation is not begged or bought;

Too long this selfish hope sufficed;
Too long man reeked with lawless thought,
And leaned upon a tortured Christ.

Like shriveled leaves, these worn out creeds
Are dropping from Religion's tree;

The world begins to know its needs,
And souls are crying to be free.

Free from the load of fear and grief,
Man fashioned in an ignorant age;

Free from the ache of unbelief

He fled to in rebellious rage.

No church can bind him to the things

That fed the first crude souls, evolved; For, mounting up on daring wings,

He questions mysteries all unsolved.

Above the chant of priests, above

The blatant voice of braying doubt, He hears the still, small voice of Love, Which sends its simple message out.

And clearer, sweeter, day by day,

Its mandate echoes from the skies, "Go roll the stone of self away,

And let the Christ within thee rise."

INSPIRATION.

OT like a daring, bold, aggressive boy,

NOT

Is inspiration, eager to pursue,

But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy,

Who gives herself to him who best doth woo.

Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to fire,
In passing by, but when she turns her face,
Thou must persist and seek her with desire,

If thou wouldst win the favor of her grace.

And if, like some winged bird, she cleaves the air, And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth, Still must thou strive to follow even there,

That she may know thy valor and thy worth.

Then shall she come unveiling all her charms,

Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears; Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms, The while she murmurs music in thine ears.

But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek,
She shall flee from thee over hill and glade,
So must thou seek and ever seek and seek

For each new conquest of this phantom maid.