Hello, Boys! Part 8

They talked of war, and tried to find its cause, And quite deplored the fact that wars must come.

But since this desperate condition was, They carefully computed what the sum Of profit might be to a land of peace, And wondered if times would be harder should war cease.

They spoke of games and sports; told many a story That made the listeners laugh; then back from these Always they harked to money, or the gory And savage drama playing overseas.

Then there were tales from club and smoking-room - The submarines of gossip, bringing some name doom.

The women talked of fashions and of plays, But more of players and their private lives; Related t.i.ttle-tattle of their words and ways, Their lightning change of husbands and of wives.

And there was chat of garments and their price, Of operas and b.a.l.l.s and all that gives life spice.

Some talk there was of music, pictures, books, But of musicians, painters, authors, more.

The way they lived--their methods and their looks - The colour of their eyes--the clothes they wore; And whether it was true, as had been stated, That gifted people were quite sure to be mis-mated.

They talked of servants, menus, and disease, And operations. Each one came in line With some astounding tale to tell of these, And of her surgeon's skill, which seemed divine.

But of that vast Domain where live our dead And where we all are hurrying, no word was said.

When we know that goal awaits each one of us a little farther on, When we know how an ever-increasing company of friends is gathered there, Why do we not speak of it in our daily conversation?

Why do we not familiarise our minds with thoughts of worlds unseen?

There are many beautiful things to be learned of that country.

There are sacred books of great travellers, whose souls have cried, 'Hail across the border';

There are truths which have been learned in visions and by revelations: All the revelations were not given to St. John alone, All the wise men of the world did not die two thousand years ago!

Why do we not talk of these eternal truths, Instead of wasting all our words on the evanesent, the ever- changing, the trivial, and the unimportant?

There is but one important theme, and that is Life Immortal.

I, TOO

I saw fond lovers in that glow That oft-times fades away too soon: I saw and said, 'Their joy I know - I, too, have had my honeymoon.'

A young expectant mother's gaze Held earth and heaven within its scope: My thoughts went back to holy days - I said, 'I, too, have known that hope.'

I saw a stricken mother swayed By sorrow's storm, like wind-blown gra.s.s: I said, 'I, too, dismayed Have seen the little white hea.r.s.e pa.s.s.'

I saw a matron rich with years Walk radiantly beside her mate: I blessed them, and said through my tears, 'I, too, have known that high estate.'

I saw a woman swathed in black So blind with grief she could not see: I said, 'Not far need I look back - I, too, have known Gethsemane.'

I saw a face so full of light, It seemed with all G.o.d's truths to shine: I said, 'I, too, have found my sight, I, too, have touched the Fact Divine.'

HE THAT HATH EARS

'He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.'--St. John the Divine.

The Spirit says unto the churches, 'Ere ever the churches began I lived in the centre of Being - The life of the Purpose and Plan; I flowed from the mind of the Maker Through nature to man.

'I sleep in the glow of the jewel, I wake in the sap of the tree, I stir in the beast of the forest, I reason in man, and am free To turn on the path of Ascension To the G.o.d yet to be.

'I was, and I am, and I will be; I live in each church and each faith But yield to no bond and no fetter, I animate all with my breath; I speak through the voice of the living And I speak after death.'

The Spirit says unto the churches, 'The dead are not gone, they are near And my voice, when I will it, speaks through them, Speaks through them in messages clear.

And he that hath ears, in the silence May listen and hear.'

The Spirit says unto the churches, 'So many the feet that have trod The road leading up into knowledge, The steep narrow path has grown broad; And the curtain held down by old dogmas Is lifted by G.o.d.'

ANSWERS

What is the end of each man's toil, Brother, O Brother?

A handful of dust in a bit of soil - His name forgotten as centuries roll, Though blazoned to-day on Glory's scroll; For the lordliest work of brain or hand Is only an imprint made on sand; When the tidal wave sweeps over the sh.o.r.e It is there no more, Brother, my Brother.

Then what is the use of striving at all, Brother, O Brother?

Because each effort or great or small Is a step on the long, long road that leads To the Kingdom of Growth on the River of Deeds: And that is the kingdom no man can gain Till he uses his hand and his mind and brain, And when he has used them and learned control He finds his soul, Brother, my Brother.

And after he finds it, what is the end, Brother, O Brother?

Upward ever its course and trend; For this is the purpose and aim and plan To seek in the soul for the Super-man - The man who is conscious that Heaven is near - A bulletin bearer from There to Here, Finding G.o.d dwells in the spirit within Where He ever has been, Brother, my Brother.

And what will the G.o.d-man do when He comes, Brother, O Brother?

He will better the world or in courts or slums, He will do in gladness his nearest duty: He will teach the religion of love and beauty In field or factory, mine or mart, While He tells the world of the larger part And the wider life that is yet to be When spirit is free, Brother, my Brother.

When spirit is free, then where will it go, Brother, O Brother?

Its uttermost summit no man may know, For it goes up to G.o.d in His holy Tower To gather more knowledge and force and power; Like a ray of the sun it shall shine again To brighten new planets and races of men.

Life had no beginning, life has no end, Brother and friend - Brother, my Brother.

HOW IS IT?

You who are loudly crying out for peace, You who are wanting love to vanquish hate, How is it in the four walls of your home The while you wait?

Do those who form your household welcome your approach in the morning As the earth welcomes the presence of dawn, Or do they dread your coming lest you censure and complain?

Do you begin the day with praise to G.o.d for each blessing you possess, and do you speak frequent words of commendation to those about you?

Do those you claim to love often hear you talking in love's language, Or is your softest tone and your sweetest speech saved for the sometime guest, While the harsh voice and the sharp retort are used with those you love the best?

You who are praying for the Christ's return And for the coming of the Promised Day, How is it in the four walls of your home The while you pray?

Are you trying to make your home a reflection of what you believe heaven will be?

Unless you are you will never find heaven anywhere; The foundations of our heavenly mansions must first be built on earth.

Unless you are striving to put in use some of the angelic virtues here and now, No angelhood will be accorded you hereafter.