Then the voice of Labour thundered forth its purpose and its need, And I marvelled, and I wondered, at the cold dull ear of greed; For as chimes, in some great steeple, tell the pa.s.sing of the hour, So the voices of the people tell the death of purchased power.

All the gathered dust of ages, G.o.d is brushing from His book; He is opening up its pages, and He bids His children look; And in shock and conflagration, and in pestilence and strife, He is speaking to the nations, of the brevity of life.

Mother Earth herself is shaken by our sorrows and our crimes; And she bids her sons awaken to the portent of the times; With her travail pains upon her, she is hurling from their place All the minions of dishonour, to admit the Coming Race.

By the voice of Justice bidden, she has torn the mask from might; All the shameful secrets hidden, she is dragging into light; And whoever wrongs his neighbour must be brought to judgment NOW, Though he wear the badge of Labour, or a crown upon his brow.

There is growth in Revolution, if the word is understood; It is one with Evolution, up from self, to brotherhood; He who utters it unheeding, bent on self, or selfish gain, His own day of doom is speeding, though he toil, or though he reign.

G.o.d is calling to the ma.s.ses, to the peasant, and the peer; He is calling to all cla.s.ses, that the crucial hour is near; For each rotting throne must tremble, and fall broken in the dust, With the leaders who dissemble, and betray a people's trust.

Still the voice of G.o.d is calling; and above the wreck I see, And beyond the gloom appalling, the great Government-to-Be.

From the ruins it has risen, and my soul is overjoyed, For the school supplants the prison, and there are no 'unemployed.'

And there are no children's faces at the spindle or the loom; They are out in sunny places, where the other sweet things bloom; G.o.d has purified the alleys, He has set the white slaves free, And they own the hills and valleys in this Government to-Be.

THE RADIANT CHRIST

I

Arise, O master artist of the age, And paint the picture which at once shall be Immortal art and bless'd prophecy.

The bruised vision of the world a.s.suage; To earth's dark book add one illumined page, So scintillant with truth, that all who see Shall break from superst.i.tion and stand free.

Now let this wondrous work thy hand engage.

The mortal sorrow of the Nazarene, Too long has been faith's symbol and its sign; Too long a dying Saviour has sufficed.

Give us the glowing emblem which shall mean Mankind awakened to the Self Divine; The living emblem of the Radiant Christ.

II

Too long the crucifix on Calvary's height Has cast its shadow on the human heart.

Let now Religion's great co-worker Art, Limn on the background of departing night, The shining Face all palpitant with light, And G.o.d's true message to the world impart.

Go tell each toiler in the home and mart, 'Lo, Christ is with ye, if ye seek aright.'

The world forgets the vital word Christ taught; The only word the world has need to know: The answer to creation's problem--Love.

The world remembers what the Christ forgot; His cross of anguish and His death of woe; Release the martyr, and the Cross remove!

III

For now the former things have pa.s.sed away, And man, forgetting that which lies behind, And ever pressing forward, seeks to find The prize of his high calling. Send a ray From art's bright sun to fortify the day, And blaze the trail to every mortal mind.

The new religion lies in being kind; Faith stands and works, where once it knelt to pray; Faith counts its gain, where once it reckoned loss; Ascending paths its patient feet have trod; Man looks within, and finds salvation there.

Release the suffering Saviour from the Cross, And give the waiting world its Radiant G.o.d.

AT BAY

WIFE

Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.

Tell me there are no memories of your past That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.

HUSBAND

Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred.

Does not the deed speak louder than the word?

(Dear G.o.d, that old dream woke again and stirred.)

WIFE

As you love me, you never loved before?

Though oft you say it, say it yet once more.

My heart is jealous of those days of yore.

HUSBAND

Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child, My life is yours by memory undefiled.

(It stirs again, that pa.s.sion brief and wild.)

WIFE

You never knew a happier hour than this?

We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss, Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?

HUSBAND

I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth; You were the warm rain, blowing from the south.

(But, ah, the crimson madness of HER mouth!)

WIFE

You would not, if you could, go down life's track For just one little moment and bring back Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?

HUSBAND

I am content. You are my life, my all.

(One burning hour, but one, could I recall; G.o.d, how men lie when driven to the wall!)

THE BIRTH OF JEALOUSY

With brooding mien and sultry eyes, Outside the gates of Paradise Eve sat, and fed the f.a.ggot flame That lit the path whence Adam came.