Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,
Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,
Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west
Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell--
Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,
Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,
Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell--
But thy height shall touch the height of God above,
And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,
And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,
And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.
_THE HUNTERS_
"_The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about
seeking whom he may detour_"
The Lion, he prowleth far and near,
Nor swerves for pain or rue;
He heeded nought of sloth nor fear,
He prowleth--prowleth through
The silent glade and the weary street,
In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
And a little Lamb with aching Feet--
He prowleth too.
The Lion croucheth alert, apart--
With patience doth he woo;
He waiteth long by the shuttered heart,
And the Lamb--He waiteth too.
Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,
Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,
The Lion followeth the fainting will--
And the Lamb--He followeth too.
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