Friends Beyond

I cannot think of them as dead,
  Who walk with me no more;
Along the path of life I tread--
  They have but gone before.

The Father's House is mansioned fair,
  Beyond my vision dim;
All souls are His, and here or there
  Are living unto Him.

And still their silent ministry
  Within my heart hath place,
As when on earth they walked with me,
  And met me face to face.

Their lives are made forever mine;
  What they to me have been
Hath left henceforth its seal and sign
  Engraven deep within.

Mine are they by an ownership
  Nor time nor death can free;
For God hath given to love to keep
  Its own eternally.

--Frederick L. Hosmer, 1840-1929

from SNOW-BOUND

And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
  Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
  What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
  Thy love hath left in trust for me?

And while in life's long afternoon,
  Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
  Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
  Since near at need the angels are;

And when the sunset gates unbar,
  Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
  The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

--John Greenleaf Whittier, 1807-1892

A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed

If God compel thee to this destiny,
To die alone, with none beside thy bed
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said,
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from
       thee,--
Pray then alone, "O Christ, come tenderly!
By thy forsaken Sonship in the red
Drear wine-press,--by the wilderness
       outspread,--
And the lone garden where thine agony
Fell bloody from thy brow,--by all of those
Permitted desolations, comfort mine!
No earthly friend being near me, interpose
No deathly angel 'twixt my face and thine,
But stoop thyself to gather my life's rose,
And smile away my mortal to Divine!"

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806-1861

The World is One

The world is one; we cannot live apart,
  To earth's remotest races we are kin;
God made the generations of one blood;
  Man's separation is a sign of sin.

What though we solve the secret of the stars,
  Or from the vibrant ether pluck a song,
Can this for all man's tyranny atone
  While Mercy weeps and waits and suffers
     long?

Put up the sword, its day of anguish past;
  Disarm the forts, and then , the war-flags
     furled,
Forever keep the air without frontiers,
  The great, free, friendly highway of the
     world.

So that at last to rapture men may come,
  And hear again the music of the spheres,
And stand erect, illumined, radiant, free,
  The travail and the triumph of the years.

--Hinton White

Of One Blood Hath God Created

Of one blood hath God created
Every kindred, tribe and tongue;
His is every fane and altar,
Though man's empire be far-flung;
Even though some flout the others,
Underneath are they blood-brothers;
And shall learn, some crucial day,
How to walk a common way.

God of all the warring peoples,
Still art Thou the God of Peace;
Love art Thou, but Love in Sorrow,
Wounded until wars shall cease;
Until Right shall win, our burden
Thou, too, bearest; 'tis the guerdon
Of that dauntless Saviour-hood
Which shall rear the common good.

Keep before us, clear, the vision
Of Thy Holy common-wealth;
Guide us, Thou, in each decision;
Save us from the subtle stealth
Which would fill our souls this hour
With race-hatred, lust of power,
Alienate our life from Thee
And Thy Kingdom, yet to be.

May we, with the Man of Sorrows,
Tread the dangerous path of duty;
Seeking not our own, but serving,
May we grasp, O Lord, the beauty
Of Thy Holiness, wherever
Flames a Love that faileth never,
Burning out the waste and dross,
Saving men from shame and loss.

Grant to us a sense of presence:
Make us all aware of Thee;
May Thy Holy Love unite us
In the bond that sets men free--
Free to understand each other,
Free to claim each as his brother,
Free to build in unity,
Free, O God, yet bound to Thee.

--Henry B. Robins

The Pact

They have no pact to sign--our peaceful dead;
  Pacts are for trembling hands and heads
    grown gray.
Ten million graves record what youth has
    said,
  And cannot now un-say.

They have no pact to sign--our quiet dead
  Whose eyes in that eternal peace are
    drowned.
Age doubts and wakes, and asks if night be
    fled;
  But youth sleeps sound.

They have no pact to sign--our faithful dead.
  Theirs was a deeper pledge, unseen,
    unheard,
Sealed in the dark; not written; sealed with
    red;
  And they will keep their word.

They have no pact to sign--our happy dead.
  But if, O God, if WE should sign in vain,
With dreadful eyes, out of each narrow bed,
  Our dead will rise again.

--Alfred Noyes

In Our Time

No holy pointer, no unchanging Light
  Where Evil wars with Virtue, foul with fair,
Dusk with the dawn--a world of black and white
  Mixing itself into a great despair?

When shall this strife between the Nations cease? . . .
  During our pilgrimage this side the tomb
Life shall be storm, the world shall know not peace
  Until within all hearts Christ finds a home!

--Huw Menai