Songs out of Doors Part 10

How wonderful are the cities that man hath builded: Their walls are compacted of heavy stones, And their lofty towers rise above the tree-tops.

Rome, Jerusalem, Cairo, Damascus,-- Venice, Constantinople, Moscow, Pekin,-- London, New York, Berlin, Paris, Vienna,--

These are the names of mighty enchantments, They have called to the ends of the earth, They have secretly summoned a host of servants.

They shine from far sitting beside great waters, They are proudly enthroned upon high hills, They spread out their splendour along the rivers.

Yet are they all the work of small patient fingers, Their strength is in the hand of man, He hath woven his flesh and blood into their glory.

The cities are scattered over the world like anthills, Every one of them is full of trouble and toil, And their makers run to and fro within them.

Abundance of riches is laid up in their treasuries, But they are tormented with the fear of want, The cry of the poor in their streets is exceeding bitter.

Their inhabitants are driven by blind perturbations, They whirl sadly in the fever of haste, Seeking they know not what, they pursue it fiercely.

The air is heavy-laden with their breathing, The sound of their coming and going is never still, Even in the night I hear them whispering and crying.

Beside every ant-hill I behold a monster crouching: This is the ant-lion Death, He thrusteth forth his tongue and the people perish.

O G.o.d of wisdom thou hast made the country: Why hast thou suffered man to make the town?

Then G.o.d answered, Surely I am the maker of man: And in the heart of man I have set the city.

THE FRIENDLY TREES

I will sing of the bounty of the big trees, They are the green tents of the Almighty, He hath set them up for comfort and for shelter.

Their cords hath he knotted in the earth, He hath driven their stakes securely, Their roots take hold of the rocks like iron.

He sendeth into their bodies the sap of life, They lift themselves lightly toward the heavens.

They rejoice in the broadening of their branches.

Their leaves drink in the sunlight and the air, They talk softly together when the breeze bloweth, Their shadow in the noon-day is full of coolness.

The tall palm-trees of the plain are rich in fruit, While the fruit ripeneth the flower unfoldeth, The beauty of their crown is renewed on high forever.

The cedars of Lebanon are fed by the snow, Afar on the mountain they grow like giants, In their layers of shade a thousand years are dreaming.

How fair are the trees that befriend the home of man, The oak, and the terebinth, and the sycamore, The broad-leaved fig-tree and the delicate silvery olive.

In them the Lord is loving to his little birds, The linnets and the finches and the nightingales, They people his pavilions with nests and with music.

The cattle also are very glad of a great tree, They chew the cud beneath it while the sun is burning, And there the panting sheep lie down around their shepherd.

He that planteth a tree is a servant of G.o.d, He provideth a kindness for many generations, And faces that he hath not seen shall bless him.

Lord, when my spirit shall return to thee, At the foot of a friendly tree let my body be buried, That this dust may rise and rejoice among the branches.

THE PATHWAY OF RIVERS

The rivers of G.o.d are full of water, They are wonderful in the renewal of their strength, He poureth them out from a hidden fountain.

They are born among the hills in the high places, Their cradle is in the bosom of the rocks, The mountain is their mother and the forest is their father.

They are nourished among the long gra.s.ses, They receive the tribute of a thousand springs, The rain and the snow provide their inheritance.

They are glad to be gone from their birthplace, With a joyful noise they hasten away, They are going forever and never departed.

The courses of the rivers are all appointed; They roar loudly but they follow the road, For the finger of G.o.d hath marked their pathway.

The rivers of Damascus rejoice among their gardens; The great river of Egypt is proud of his ships; The Jordan is lost in the Lake of Bitterness.

Surely the Lord guideth them every one in his wisdom, In the end he gathereth all their drops on high, And sendeth them forth again in the clouds of mercy.

O my G.o.d, my life floweth away like a river: Guide me, I beseech thee, in a pathway of good: Let me run in blessing to my rest in thee.

THE GLORY OF RUINS

The lizard rested on the rock while I sat among the ruins, And the pride of man was like a vision of the night.

Lo, the lords of the city have disappeared into darkness, The ancient wilderness hath swallowed up all their work.

There is nothing left of the city but a heap of fragments; The bones of a vessel broken by the storm.

Behold the waves of the desert wait hungrily for man's dwellings, And the tides of desolation return upon his toil.

All that he hath painfully built up is shaken down in a moment, The memory of his glory is buried beneath the billows of sand.

Then a voice said, Look again upon the ruins, These broken arches have taught generations to build.

Moreover the name of this city shall be remembered, For here a poor man spoke a word that shall not die.

This is the glory that is stronger than the desert; G.o.d hath given eternity to the thought of man.

THE TRIBE OF THE HELPERS

The ways of the world are full of haste and turmoil; I will sing of the tribe of the helpers who travel in peace.