I dimly guess from blessings known And, with the chastened Psalmist, own I long for household voices gone, I know not what the future hath Assured alone that life and death And if my heart and flesh are weak No offering of my own I have, And so beside the Silent Sea No harm from Him can come to me I know not where His islands lift I only know I cannot drift O brothers! if my faith is vain, And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen Thy creatures as they be, My human heart on Thee! C. NEW VOICES MY FAITH SRI ANANDA ACHARYA All this is one Though the earth is dark and the stars are bright, Though the sun of life has risen and will as surely set, this is my faith: the sun of life shines ever in its place, unmoving. Though the royal swans fly and the storms smite their head, this is my faith: they will reach their home in the Mansa lake. Though the mountains stand mute and the birds sing merrily, this is my faith: the pole-star is firm. Though friends greet like strangers and strangers are unkind, this is my faith: love will wake in their souls. Though all men have different faces, different minds, this is my faith one heart moves them all. Though atoms, forces, lives, fates, graces, times, each from the other differs, each fighting for supremacy-this is my faith: all are traveling, under the cloud of unknowingness, to the All-soul's temple of rest. VICTORY (Found on the body of an Australian soldier) Ye that have faith to look with fearless eyes Rejoice, whatever anguish rend the heart, That God has given you the priceless dower That ye may tell your sons who see the light High in the heavens-their heritage to take— "I saw the powers of darkness take their flight; I saw the morning break.” HAVE FAITH EDWARD CARPENTER Do not hurry; have faith. Remember that if you become famous you can never share the lot of those who pass by unnoticed from the cradle to the grave, nor take part in the last heroism of their daily life; If you seek and encompass wealth and ease the divine outlook of poverty cannot be yours-nor shall you feel all your days the loving and constraining touch of Nature and Necessity; If you are successful in all you do, you cannot also battle magnificently against odds; If you have fortune and good health and a loving wife and children, you cannot also be of those who are happy without these things. Covet not overmuch. Let the strong desires come and go; refuse them not, disown them not; but think not that in them lurks finally the thing you want. Presently they will fade away and into the intolerable light will dissolve like gossamers before the sun. Do not hurry; have faith. (Whither indeed should we hurry? is it not well here? A little shelter from the storm, a stack of fuel for winter use, A few handfuls of grain and fruit— And, lo! the glory of all the earth is ours.) The main thing is that the messenger is perhaps even now at your door—and to see that you are ready for his arrival. Likely whoever it is his coming will upset all your carefully laid plans; Your most benevolent designs will likely have to be laid aside, and he will set you to some quite common-place business, or perhaps of dubious character Or send you on a long and solitary journey; perhaps he will bring you letters of trust to deliver-perhaps the prince himself will appear Yet see that you are ready for his arrival. Is your present experience hard to bear? Yet remember that never again perhaps in all your days Do not fly the lesson, but have a care that you maintain it while you have the opportunity. On all sides God surrounds you, staring out upon you from the mountains and from the face of the rocks, and of men, and of animals. Will you rush past forever insensate and blindfold-hurrying breathless from one unfinished task to another, and to catch your ever-departing trains-as if you were a very Cain flying from His face? IN THE HOSPITAL ARTHUR GUITERMAN Because on the branch that is tapping my pane A sun-wakened, leaf-bud uncurled, Is bursting its rusty brown sheathing in twain, Because through the sky-patch whose azure and white My window frames all the day long, A yellow bird dips for an instant of flight, Because even' here, in this Mansion of Woe, GOD THE ARCHITECT HARRY KEMP Who Thou art I know not In a silver row; Thou hast sent the trackless winds Thou hast reared a colored wall Twixt the night and day; Thou hast made the flowers to bloom And the stars to shine; Hid rare gems of richest ore In the tunneled mine; But chief of all thy wondrous works Thou hast put an upward reach Into the heart of man. |