General William Booth Enters into Heaven | Page 7

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, swaying with every breeze, Returning always near the eaves, or by the skylight glass:?There it will wait me many weeks, and then, at last, will pass. Each soul is haunted by a ship in which that soul might ride And climb the glorious mysteries of Heaven's silent tide?In voyages that change the very metes and bounds of Fate -- O empty boats, we all refuse, that by our windows wait!
With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses
I saw Lord Buddha towering by my gate?Saying: "Once more, good youth, I stand and wait."?Saying: "I bring you my fair Law of Peace?And from your withering passion full release;?Release from that white hand that stabbed you so.?The road is calling. With the wind you go,?Forgetting her imperious disdain --?Quenching all memory in the sun and rain."
"Excellent Lord, I come. But first," I said,?"Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.?Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,?And then indeed I go in bitter drouth?To that far valley where your river flows?In Peace, that once I found in every rose."
St. Francis of Assisi
Would I might wake St. Francis in