Poems

Thus do we end our exile; then it is We find the last release, and rise, Knowing the truth which testifies. That pain and time and long captivity And life and death and destined circumstance Are only phases of our ignorance! And thus it is at last that we, After great love and long adjournments see The pinnacles of thought lighten with song, And all the spirits of the free, Calm and majestic, move along In an ascending theory! While we stand with wings and will Nerved to the task before us still; While we watch with steadfast eyes Clear and valiant as a bell The flame of thought that never dies; While we explore the secret none can tell; While we prepare, in tense tranquillity, For the inveterate miracle, The soul's perennial truth, The truth's perennial liberty! George Cabot Lodge.

Bright afterthought of summer, Flame of the golden noon, To us thou art as precious As fragrant flowers of June. Thy feathery plume, uplifted To joyous skies above, Bears message sure and tender Of God's eternal love.

There is a torment of the days and years, Born of the heart's distress, a life's despairs, A haunting horror, quite unquenched by tears. It brings thee darkness on the breath of dawn, Bedims the roses of the day new-born, And leaves thee lifeless, hopeless, and forlorn.

A message is borne on the boisterous sea, And told by the silent stars, Tis sung in a thousand echoing notes That break on the harbor-bars. It glistens in myriad drops of dew, 'Tis seen in the violet's eye, And quaffed by a thousand waiting hearts When the scented breeze sweeps by.

"How is it that ye sought me?" Fearfully? As timid children, cowering in the gloom, Afraid to move, lest terrors seen assume More hideous forms, when but one short step more Would bring them where the light would flood them o'er? O trembling heart, God's care enfolds thee here, E'en while ye fettered are by blinding fear! How is it that ye sought me fearfully? " "How is it that ye sought me?" Doubtfully? Did swift temptations in thy path arise? Didst thou forget that dreams are always lies, When thou didst hear the word that bade thee pause Nor further seek in such uncertain cause? And didst thou deem that what ye sought could be A changing phase of unreality? How is it that ye sought me doubtfully? "How is it that ye sought me?" Sorrowing? Didst thou not know that joy alone can find The way to me? That grief is left behind When thou dost seek aright? That sorrow's hour Can never strike, since Love alone has power? My Father's business is the work of joy, Triumphant, full, untainted by alloy. How is it that ye sought me sorrowing? "How is it that ye sought me?" Earnestly? Didst count each obstacle that barred thy way A chance to prove thy faith, as day by day Ye onward pressed? Didst heed no other mark E'en while ye saw but vaguely in the dark? Didst seek with thy whole heart, thine utmost strength, Secure in knowing thou shouldst find at length? Yea, thou, and all who seek Truth earnestly!

To what full purpose of profound intent, To what far goal of flawless argument Do I outwing my way? Ever the beckoning day Bids me to loftier peaks and points aspire, To the pure soul's desire. Behind me is the somber-scowling ocean, The dark unrest, the void and vain emotion, The falsity, the fear; But visions bright appear When the white sunrise o'er the wakening world Flings her gay flags unfurled.

Father , I thank Thee for the dawn of light Which brings the day; I know that Thou wilt guide my steps aright And lead the way. And if perchance I falter on the road, I clasp Thy hand And know that Thou wilt lift my seeming load And understand.

Thou everlasting rock! Unchanging, firm, That standest midst the storm and tide of years! Unmoved by shifting sands of theories, Unaltered by men's concepts or men's fears! O Thou eternal substance! Thou who art The same today, forever—endless life, Grant us to know that Mind immutable Which naught beholds of discord, pain, or strife. Grant us, O Lord, to know the real, the true; To seek that glorious sonship of the free Where, closed to dreams of changing joy and woe, Our wakened eyes behold the light—and Thee!

Some other, Lord, for I am slow of speech; Another's thought my brother's need must reach. Perchance he would not heed me; would not rise Were mine the hand that pointed to the skies.

O heart of mine, unsatisfied; Storm-tossed on life's beclouded sea! I prayed for some unfailing guide To lead, and bless, and comfort me. Then hope inspired my heart bowed down— I woke to life and liberty; Each cross became a jeweled crown, For Christ indeed was leading me.