POISON-SEEDS Is there, in you or me, Which, in its bitter fruiting, bore Such vintage sore Of red calamity— Black wine of horror and of Death, And soul-catastrophe ? Search well and see! Yea-search and see! And, if there be Tear up its roots with zealous care, With deep soul-probing and with prayer, Lest, in the coming years, Again it bear This same dread fruit of blood and tears, And ruth beyond compare. Each soul that strips it of one evil thing THE WAR-MAKERS Who are the Makers of Wars? And who are these Kings of the earth? And Wisdom?-does that come by birth? Why suffer things to reason so averse? And only now does knowledge grow And how long will man suffer so? THE WAR-MAKERS (continued) And calls to stricter reckonings Not all are worthless. Some, with sense of duty, Strive to invest their lives with grace and beauty. To such-high honour! But the rest-self-seek ers, Pride-puffed-out with them!-useless mischiefmakers! The time is past when any man or nation The time is come when every burden-bearer IS LIFE WORTH LIVING? Is life worth living? It depends on your believing;- But a Loftier Hope we cherish. We cannot think as ended, our dear dead who died. What room is left us then for doubt or fear? God is! Christ loves! Christ lives! Sure pledge of Immortality. The first-fruits-He; and we The harvest of His victory. The life beyond shall this life far transcend, GOD'S HANDWRITING He writes in characters too grand Of withered hopes, of death, of life, HIS WAY WAS RIGHT (From Bees in Amber.) |