Hello, Boys! | Page 4

look askance,
For from the devastated homes
of France
And ruined Belgium the cry is hurled.
Why, Christ
Himself would keep peace banners furled
Were He among us, till, with lifted lance,
He saw the hosts of
Righteousness advance
To purify the Temples of the world.
There
is no safety on the earth to-day
For any sacred thing, or clean, or fair;
Nor can there be, until men rise
and slay
The hydra-headed monster in his lair.
War! horrid War! now Virtue's
only friend;
Clasp hands with War, and battle to the end!
THE HOUR
This is the world's stupendous hour -
The supreme moment for the race
To see the emptiness of power,
The worthlessness of wealth and place,
To see the purpose and the
plan
Conceived by God for growing man.
And they who see and comprehend
That ultimate and lofty aim
Will wait in patience for the end,
Knowing injustice cannot claim
One lasting victory, or control

Laws that bar progress for the whole.

This is an epoch-making time;
God thunders through the universe
A message glorious and sublime,
At once a blessing and a curse.
Blessings for those who seek His light,

Curses for those whose law is might.
Ephemeral as the sunset glow
Is human grandeur. Mortal life
Was given that souls might seek and
know
Immortal truths; and through the strife
That shakes the earth from
land to land
The wise shall hear and understand.
Out of the awful holocaust,
Out of the whirlwind and the flood,
Out of old creeds to Bedlam
tossed,
Shall rise a new earth washed in blood -
A new race filled with spirit
power,
This is the world's stupendous hour.
THE MESSAGE
I have not the gift of vision,
I have not the psychic ear,
And the realms that are called Elysian
I neither see nor hear;
Yet oft when the shadows darken
And the daylight hides its face,
The soul of me seems to hearken
For the truths that speak through space.
They speak to me not through reason,

They speak to me not by word;
Yet my soul would be guilty of
treason
If it did not say it had heard.
For Space has a message compelling
To give to the ear of Earth;
And the things which the Silence is
telling
In the bosom of God have birth.
Now this is the truth as I hear it -
That ever through good or ill,
The will of the Ruling Spirit
Is moving and ruling still.
In the clutch of the blood-red terror
That holds the world in its might,
The Race is learning its error
And will find its way to the light.
And this is the Truth as I see it -
Whoever cries out for peace,
Must think it, and live it, and BE IT,
And the wars of the world will cease.
Men fight that man may
awaken,
And no longer want to kill;
Wars rage, and the heavens are shaken
That man may learn how to be still.
In the silence he finds his Saviour -
The God Who is dwelling within;
And only by Christ-behaviour
Is the soul of him saved from sin.
There is only one Source--no other
-

One Light, and each soul is a ray;
And he who would slaughter his
brother,
HIMSELF he is seeking to slay.
Now these are the Truths we are learning
Through evils and horrors untold;
For the thought of the race is
turning
Away from its methods of old.
And the mind of the race is sated,
With the things that it prized of yore,
And the monster of war is
hated,
As never on earth before.
Oh, slow are God's mills in the grinding,
But they grind exceedingly small;
And slow is man's soul in the
finding,
That he is a part of the All.
Through aeons and aeons, his story
Is bloody and blackened with crime;
But he will come out into glory
And stand on the summits sublime.
He will stand on the summits of Knowledge,
In the splendour of Light from the Source;
And the methods of
church and of college
Will all of them change by his force.
For the creeds that are blind and
cruel,
And the teachings by rule and by rod,
Will all be turned into fuel

To light up the pathway to God.
This is the Truth as I hear it -
The clouds are rolling away,
And
Spirit will talk with Spirit
In the swift approaching day.
War from
the world shall be driven,
From evil shall come forth good;
And
men shall make ready for Heaven
Through living in Brotherhood.
'FLOWERS OF FRANCE'
DECORATION POEM FOR
SOLDIERS' GRAVES, TOURS, FRANCE, MAY 30, 1918
Flowers of France in the Spring,
Your growth is a beautiful thing;

But give us your fragrance and bloom -
Yea, give us your lives in
truth,
Give us your sweetness and grace
To brighten the
resting-place
Of the flower of manhood and youth,
Gone into the
dust of the tomb.
This is the vast stupendous hour of Time,
When nothing counts but
sacrifice and faith,
Service and self-forgetfulness. Sublime
And
awful are these moments charged with