General William Booth Enters into Heaven | Page 7

some muddy stream,
Dark as the Ganges,
shall, like that strange tide --
(Whispering mystery to half the earth) --

Gather the praying millions to its side,
And flow past halls with statues in white stone
To saints unborn
to-day, whose lives of grace
Shall make one shining, universal church

Where all Faiths kneel, as brothers, in one place.
The Wedding of the Rose and the Lotos
The wide Pacific waters
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy
they mingle,
In tides of love they greet.
Above the drowned ages


A wind of wooing blows: --
The red rose woos the lotos,
The lotos
woos the rose . . .
The lotos conquered Egypt.
The rose was loved in Rome.
Great
India crowned the lotos:
(Britain the rose's home).
Old China
crowned the lotos,
They crowned it in Japan.
But Christendom
adored the rose
Ere Christendom began . . .
The lotos speaks of slumber:
The rose is as a dart.
The lotos is
Nirvana:
The rose is Mary's heart.
The rose is deathless, restless,

The splendor of our pain:
The flush and fire of labor
That builds,
not all in vain. . . .
The genius of the lotos
Shall heal earth's too-much fret.
The rose, in
blinding glory,
Shall waken Asia yet.
Hail to their loves, ye peoples!

Behold, a world-wind blows,
That aids the ivory lotos
To wed
the red red rose!
King Arthur's Men Have Come Again
[Written while a field-worker in the Anti-Saloon League of Illinois.]
King Arthur's men have come again.
They challenge everywhere

The foes of Christ's Eternal Church.
Her incense crowns the air.

The heathen knighthood cower and curse
To hear the bugles ring,

BUT SPEARS ARE SET, THE CHARGE IS ON,
WISE
ARTHUR SHALL BE KING!
And Cromwell's men have come again,
I meet them in the street.

Stern but in this -- no way of thorns
Shall snare the children's feet.

The reveling foemen wreak but waste,
A sodden poisonous band.

FIERCE CROMWELL BUILDS THE FLOWER-BRIGHT
TOWNS,
AND A MORE SUNLIT LAND!
And Lincoln's men have come again.
Up from the South he flayed,


The grandsons of his foes arise
In his own cause arrayed.
They rise
for freedom and clean laws
High laws, that shall endure.
OUR
GOD ESTABLISHES HIS ARM
AND MAKES THE BATTLE
SURE!
Foreign Missions in Battle Array
An endless line of splendor,
These troops with heaven for home,

With creeds they go from Scotland,
With incense go from Rome.

These, in the name of Jesus,
Against the dark gods stand,
They gird
the earth with valor,
They heed their King's command.
Onward the line advances,
Shaking the hills with power,
Slaying
the hidden demons,
The lions that devour.
No bloodshed in the
wrestling, --
But souls new-born arise --
The nations growing
kinder,
The child-hearts growing wise.
What is the final ending?
The issue, can we know?
Will Christ
outlive Mohammed?
Will Kali's altar go?
This is our faith
tremendous, --
Our wild hope, who shall scorn, --
That in the name
of Jesus
The world shall be reborn!
Star of My Heart
Star of my heart, I follow from afar.
Sweet Love on high, lead on
where shepherds are,
Where Time is not, and only dreamers are.

Star from of old, the Magi-Kings are dead
And a foolish Saxon seeks
the manger-bed.
O lead me to Jehovah's child
Across this
dreamland lone and wild,
Then will I speak this prayer unsaid,
And
kiss his little haloed head --
"My star and I, we love thee, little child."
Except the Christ be born again to-night
In dreams of all men, saints
and sons of shame,
The world will never see his kingdom bright.

Stars of all hearts, lead onward thro' the night

Past death-black
deserts, doubts without a name,
Past hills of pain and mountains of

new sin
To that far sky where mystic births begin,
Where dreaming
ears the angel-song shall win.
Our Christmas shall be rare at dawning
there,
And each shall find his brother fair,
Like a little child within:

All hearts of the earth shall find new birth
And wake, no more to
sin.
Look You, I'll Go Pray
Look you, I'll go pray,
My shame is crying,
My soul is gray and
faint,
My faith is dying.
Look you, I'll go pray --
"Sweet Mary,
make me clean,
Thou rainstorm of the soul,
Thou wine from worlds
unseen."
At Mass
No doubt to-morrow I will hide
My face from you, my King.
Let
me rejoice this Sunday noon,
And kneel while gray priests sing.
It is not wisdom to forget.
But since it is my fate
Fill thou my soul
with hidden wine
To make this white hour great.
My God, my God, this marvelous hour
I am your son I know.
Once
in a thousand days your voice
Has laid temptation low.
Heart of God
O great heart of God,
Once vague and lost to me,
Why do I throb
with your throb to-night,
In this land, eternity?
O little heart of God,
Sweet intruding stranger,
You are laughing in
my human breast,
A Christ-child in a manger.
Heart, dear heart of God,
Beside you now I kneel,
Strong heart of
faith. O heart not mine,
Where God has set His seal.
Wild thundering heart of God
Out of my doubt I come,
And my

foolish feet with prophets' feet,
March with the prophets' drum.
The Empty Boats
Why do I see these empty boats, sailing on airy seas?
One haunted
me the whole night long,