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Warp and Woof and Tangle,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
Living and dying--and mightier dead, For the shuttle, once sped, is sped--is sped;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
White, and Black, and Hodden-gray,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
To every weaver one golden strand Is given in trust by the Master-Hand;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
And that we weave, we know not,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
The threads we see, but the pattern is known To the Master-Weaver alone, alone;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_.
THE CLEARER VISION
When, with bowed head, And silent-streaming tears, With mingled hopes and fears, To earth we yield our dead; The Saints, with clearer sight, Do cry in glad accord,-- "_A soul released from prison Is risen, is risen,-- Is risen to the glory of the Lord_."
SHADOWS
Shadows are but for the moment-- Quickly past; And then the sun the brighter shines That it was overcast.
For Light is Life!
Gracious and sweet, The fair life-giving sun doth scatter blessings With his light and heat,-- And shadows.
But the shadows that come of the life-giving sun Crouch at his feet.
No mortal life but has its shadowed times-- Not one!
Life without shadow could not taste the full Sweet glory of the sun.
No shadow falls, but there, behind it, stands The Light Behind the wrongs and sorrows of life's troublous ways Stands RIGHT.
THE INN OF LIFE
_As It was in the Beginning,-- Is Now,-- And...?
Anno Domini I_.
"No room!
No room!
The Inn is full, Yea--overfull.
No room have we for such as ye-- Poor folk of Galilee, Pa.s.s on! Pa.s.s on!"
"Nay then!-- Your charity Will ne'er deny Some corner mean, Where she may lie unseen.
For see!-- Her time is nigh."
"Alack! And she So young and fair!
Place have we none; And yet--how bid ye gone?
Stay then!--out there Among the beasts Ye may find room, And eke a truss To lie upon."
_Anno Domini 1913, etc., etc_.
"No room!
No room!
No room for Thee, Thou Man of Galilee!
The house is full, Yea, overfull.
There is no room for Thee,-- Pa.s.s on! Pa.s.s on!
Nay--see!
The place is packed.
"We scarce have room For our own selves, So how shall we Find room for Thee, Thou Man of Galilee,-- Pa.s.s on! Pa.s.s on!
But--if Thou shouldst This way again, And we can find So much as one small corner Free from guest, Not then in vain Thy quest.
But now-- The house is full.
Pa.s.s on!"
Christ pa.s.ses On His ceaseless quest, Nor will He rest With any, Save as Chiefest Guest.
LIFE'S CHEQUER-BOARD
"'Tis all a Chequer-Board of Nights and Days, Where Detiny with men for pieces plays, Hither and thither moves, and mates and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays."
_Omar Khayyam_.
A Chequer-Board of mingled Light and Shade?
And We the Pieces on it deftly laid?
Moved and removed, without a word to say, By the Same Hand that Board and Pieces made?
No Pieces we in any Fateful Game, Nor free to shift on Destiny the blame; Each Soul doth tend its own immortal flame, Fans it to Heaven, or smothers it in shame.
CROSS-ROADS
