Chapter II: Part ONE: "all's Well!"

GOD IS

God is;
God sees;
God loves;
God knows.
And Right is Right;
And Right is Might.
In the full ripeness of His Time,
All these His vast prepotencies
Shall round their grace-work to the prime
Of full accomplishment,
And we shall see the plan sublime
Of His beneficent intent.
Live on in hope!
Press on in faith!
Love conquers all things,
Even Death.

WATCHMAN! WHAT OF THE NIGHT?

Watchman! What of the night?
No light we see,--
Our souls are bruised and sickened with the sight
Of this foul crime against humanity.
The Ways are dark----
"I SEE THE MORNING LIGHT!"

--The Ways are dark;
Faith folds her wings; and Hope, in piteous plight,
Has dimmed her radiant lamp to feeblest spark.
Love bleeding lies----
"I SEE THE MORNING LIGHT!"

--Love bleeding lies,
Struck down by this grim fury of despight,
Which once again her Master crucifies.
He dies again----
"I SEE THE MORNING LIGHT!"

--He dies again,
By evil slain! Who died for man's respite
By man's insensate rage again is slain.
O woful sight!----
"I SEE THE MORNING LIGHT!

--Beyond the war-clouds and the reddened ways,
I see the Promise of the Coming Days!
I see His Sun arise, new-charged with grace
Earth's tears to dry and all her woes efface!
Christ lives! Christ loves! Christ rules!
No more shall Might,
Though leagued with all the Forces of the Night,
Ride over Right. No more shall Wrong
The world's gross agonies prolong.
Who waits His Time shall surely see
The triumph of His Constancy;--
When, without let, or bar, or stay,
The coming of His Perfect Day
Shall sweep the Powers of Night away;--
And Faith, replumed for nobler flight,
And Hope, aglow with radiance bright,
And Love, in loveliness bedight,
SHALL GREET THE MORNING LIGHT!"

FOR THE MEN AT THE FRONT

Lord God of Hosts, whose mighty hand
Dominion holds on sea and land,
In Peace and War Thy Will we see
Shaping the larger liberty.
Nations may rise and nations fall,
Thy Changeless Purpose rules them all.

When Death flies swift on wave or field,
Be Thou a sure defence and shield!
Console and succour those who fall,
And help and hearten each and all!
O, hear a people's prayers for those
Who fearless face their country's foes!

For those who weak and broken lie,
In weariness and agony--
Great Healer, to their beds of pain
Come, touch, and make them whole again!
O, hear a people's prayers, and bless
Thy servants in their hour of stress!

[Five million copies of this hymn have been sold and the profits given to the various Funds for the Wounded. It is now being sung all round the world.]

For those to whom the call shall come
We pray Thy tender welcome home.
The toil, the bitterness, all past,
We trust them to Thy Love at last.
O, hear a people's prayers for all
Who, nobly striving, nobly fall!

To every stricken heart and home,
O, come! In tenderest pity, come!
To anxious souls who wait in fear,
Be Thou most wonderfully near!
And hear a people's prayers, for faith
To quicken life and conquer death!

For those who minister and heal,
And spend themselves, their skill, their zeal--
Renew their hearts with Christ-like faith,
And guard them from disease and death.
And in Thine own good time, Lord, send
Thy Peace on earth till Time shall end!

IN TIME OF NEED

Better than I,
Thou knowest, Lord,
All my necessity,
And with a word
Thou canst it all supply.
Help other is there none
Save Thee alone;
Without Thee I'm undone.
And so, to Thee I cry,--
O, be Thou nigh!
For, better far than I,
Thou knowest, Lord,
All my necessity.

CHRIST'S ALL!

_Our Boys Who Have Gone to the Front_

(_"Be christs!"--was one of W. T. Stead's favourite sayings. Not "Be like Christ!"--but--"Be christs!" And he used the word no doubt in its original meaning,--anointed, ordained, chosen. As such we, whose boys have gone to the Front, think of them. For they have gone, most of them, from a simple, high sense of duty, and in many cases under direst feeling of personal repulsion against the whole ghastly business. They have sacrificed everything, knowing full well that many of them will never return to us._)

Ye are all christs in this your self-surrender,--
True sons of God in seeking not your own.
Yours now the hardships,--yours shall be the splendour
Of the Great Triumph and THE KING'S "Well done!"

Yours these rough Calvaries of high endeavour,--
Flame of the trench, and foam of wintry seas.
Nor Pain, nor Death, nor aught that is can sever
You from the Love that bears you on His knees.

Yes, you are christs, if less at times your seeming.--
Christ walks the earth in many a simple guise.
We know you christs, when, in your souls' redeeming,
The Christ-light blazes in your steadfast eyes.

Here--or hereafter, you shall see it ended,--
This mighty work to which your souls are set.
If from beyond--then, with the vision splendid,
You shall smile back and never know regret.

Or soon, or late, for each--the Life Immortal!
And not for us to choose the How or When.
Or late, or soon,--what matter?--since the Portal
Leads but to glories passing mortal ken.

O Lads! Dear Lads! Our christs of God's anointing!
Press on in hope! Your faith and courage prove!
Pass--by these High Ways of the Lord's appointing!
You cannot pass beyond our boundless love.

THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

()"In the evening I went for a walk to a village lately shelled by German heavy guns. Their effect was awful--ghastly. It was impossible to imagine the amount of damage done until one really saw it. The church was terrible too. The spire was sticking upside down in the ground a short distance from the door. The church itself was a mass of debris. Scarcely anything was left unhit. In the churchyard again the destruction was terrific--tombstones thrown all over the place. But the most noticeable thing of all was that the three Crucifixes--one inside and two outside--were untouched! How they can have avoided the shelling is quite beyond me. It was a wonderful sight though an awful one. There were holes in the churchyard about fifteen feet across."--From a letter from my boy at the Front._)

The churchyard stones all blasted into shreds,
The dead re-slain within their lowly beds,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

His holy ground all cratered and crevassed,
All flailed to fragments by the fiery blast,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

His church a blackened ruin, scarce one stone
Left on another,--yet, untouched alone,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

His shrines o'erthrown, His altars desecrate,
His priests the victims of a pagan hate,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

'Mid all the horrors of the reddened ways,
The thund'rous nights, the dark and dreadful days,--
THE CROSS STILL STANDS!

* * * * *

And, 'mid the chaos of the Deadlier Strife,--
A Church at odds with its own self and life,--
HIS CROSS STILL STANDS!

Faith folds her wings, and Hope at times grows dim;
The world goes wandering away from Him;--
HIS CROSS STILL STANDS!

Love, with the lifted hands and thorn-crowned head,
Still conquers Death, though life itself be fled;--
HIS CROSS STILL STANDS!

Yes,--Love triumphant stands, and stands for more,
In our great need, than e'er it stood before!
HIS CROSS STILL STANDS!

WHERE ARE YOU SLEEPING TO-NIGHT, MY LAD?

Where are you sleeping to-night, My Lad,
Above-ground--or below?
The last we heard you were up at the front,
Holding a trench and bearing the brunt;--
But--that was a week ago.

Ay!--that was a week ago, Dear Lad,
And a week is a long, long time,
When a second's enough, in the thick of the strife,
To sever the thread of the bravest life,
And end it in its prime.

Oh, a week is long when so little's enough
To send a man below.
It may be that while we named your name
The bullet sped and the quick end came,--
And the rest we shall never know.

But this we know, Dear Lad,--all's well
With the man who has done his best.
And whether he live, or whether he die,
He is sacred high in our memory;--
And to God we can leave the rest.

So--wherever you're sleeping to-night, Dear Lad,
This one thing we do know,--
When "Last Post" sounds, and He makes His rounds,
Not one of you all will be out of bounds,
Above ground or below.

BE QUIET!

Soul, dost thou fear
For to-day or to-morrow?
'Tis the part of a fool
To go seeking sorrow.
Of thine own doing
Thou canst not contrive them.
'Tis He that shall give them;
Thou may'st not outlive them.
So why cloud to-day
With fear of the sorrow,
That may or may not
Come to-morrow?

TO YOU WHO HAVE LOST

I know! I know!--
The ceaseless ache, the emptiness, the woe,--
The pang of loss,--
The strength that sinks beneath so sore a cross.
"_--Heedless and careless, still the world wags on,
And leaves me broken ... Oh, my son! my son!_"

Yet--think of this!--
Yea, rather think on this!--
He died as few men get the chance to die,--
Fighting to save a world's morality.
He died the noblest death a man may die,
Fighting for God, and Right, and Liberty;--
And such a death is Immortality.

"_He died unnoticed in the muddy trench._"
Nay,--God was with him, and he did not blench;
Filled him with holy fires that nought could quench,
And when He saw his work below was done,
He gently called to him,--"_My son! My son!
I need thee for a greater work than this.
Thy faith, thy zeal, thy fine activities
Are worthy of My larger liberties;_"--
--Then drew him with the hand of welcoming grace,
And, side by side, they climbed the heavenly ways.

LORD, SAVE THEIR SOULS ALIVE!

Lord, save their souls alive!
And--for the rest,--
We leave it all to Thee;
Thou knowest best.

Whether they live or die,
Safely they'll rest,
Every true soul of them,
Thy Chosen Guest.

Whether they live or die,
They chose the best,
They sprang to Duty's call,
They stood the test.

If they come back to us--
How grateful we!
If not,--we may not grieve;
They are with Thee.

No soul of them shall fail,
Whate'er the past.
Who dies for Thee and Thine
Wins Thee at last.

Who, through the fiery gates,
Enter Thy rest,
Greet them as conquerors,--
Bravest and best!

Every white soul of them,
Ransomed and blest,--
Wear them as living gems,
Bear them as living flames,
High on Thy breast!

THE ALABASTER BOX

The spikenard was not wasted;--
All down the tale of years,
The fragrance of that broken alabaster
Still clings to Mary's memory,
As clung its perfume sweet unto her Master.

Not less than Martha,
Mary served her Lord,
Although she but sat worshipping,
While Martha spread the board.

They also minister to Christ,
And render noblest duty,
Whose sweet hands touch life's common rounds
To Fragrance and to Beauty.

WHITE BROTHER

Midway between the flaming lines he lay,
A tumbled heap of blood, and sweat, and clay;
--God's son!

And none could succour him. First this one tried,
Then that ... and then another ... and they died;
--God's sons!

Those others saw his plight, and laughed and jeered,
And, at each helper's fall, laughed more, and cheered;
--God's sons?

So, through the torture of an endless day,
In agonies that none could ease, he lay;
--God's son!

Then, as he wrestled for each hard-won breath,
Bleeding his life out, craving only death;--
--God's son!

--Came One in white, athwart the fiery hail,
And in His hand, a shining cup--The Grail;
--God's Son!

He knelt beside him on the reeking ground,
And with a touch soothed each hot-throbbing wound;
--God's Son!

Gave him to drink, and in his failing ear
Whispered sweet words of comfort and good cheer;
--God's Son!

The suffering one looked up into the face
Of Him whose death to sinners brought God's grace;
--God's Son!

The tender brow with unhealed wounds was scarred,
The hand that held The Cup, the nails had marred;
--God's Son!

"Brother, for thee I suffered greater woes;
As I forgave,--do thou forgive thy foes,
--God's son!"

"Yea, Lord, as Thou forgavest, I forgive;
And now, my soul unto Thyself receive,
--God's Son!"

Thick-clustered in the battered trench, amazed,
They gazed at that strange sight ... and gazed ... and gazed;
--God's sons!

--The Christ of God, come down to succour one
Of their own number,--their own mate--
--God's son!

And none who saw that sight will e'er forget
How once, upon the field of death, they met
--God's Son.

A LITTLE TE DEUM FOR THESE TIMES

We thank Thee, Lord,
For mercies manifold in these dark days;--
For Heart of Grace that would not suffer wrong;
For all the stirrings in the dead dry bones;
For bold self-steeling to the times' dread needs;
For every sacrifice of self to Thee;
For ease and wealth and life so freely given;
For Thy deep sounding of the hearts of men;
For Thy great opening of the hearts of men;
For Thy close-knitting of the hearts of men;
For all who sprang to answer the great call;
For their high courage and self-sacrifice;
For their endurance under deadly stress;
For all the unknown heroes who have died
To keep the land inviolate and free;
For all who come back from the Gates of Death;
For all who pass to larger life with Thee,
And find in Thee the wider liberty;
For hope of Righteous and Enduring Peace;
For hope of cleaner earth and closer heaven;
With burdened hearts, but faith unquenchable,--
We thank Thee, Lord!

THY WILL BE DONE!

"_Thy Will be done!_"
Let all the worlds
Resound with that divinest prayer!
The joyous souls redeemed from ill
Know all the wonders of Thy Will;
Heaven's highest bliss is surely this,--
"_Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

"_Thy Will be done!_"
Tis not Thy Will
That Sin or Sorrow rule the world.
Thy Will is Joy, and Hope, and Light;
Thy Will is All-Triumphant Right.
And so, exultantly, we cry,--
"_Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

"_Thy Will be done!_"
It is Thy Will
That all Life's wrongs should be redressed;
That burdened souls their bonds should break;
That Earth of Heavenly Joys partake.
And so, right wistfully, we cry,--
"_Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

"_Thy Will be done!_"
'Tis not Thy Will
That man should kiss a chastening rod;
But, heart abrim, and head to heaven,
Should praise his God for mercies given,
And ever cry right joyously,--
"_Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

"_Thy Will be done!_"
It is Thy Will
That Life should seek its golden prime,--
That strife 'twixt man and man should cease,--
That all Thy sons should build Thy peace.
And so, full longingly, we cry,--
"_Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

"_Thy Will be done!_"
Then Earth were Heaven,
If but Thy gracious Will prevailed;
If every will that worketh ill
Would bend to Thine, and Thine fulfil,
And with us pray,--"_Bring in Thy Day!
Thy Will be done! Thy Will be done!_"

DIES IRAE--DIES PACIS

(_As earnestly as any I crave the victory of Right over this madness of Insensate Might against which we are contending. As certainly as any I would, if that were conceivably possible, have adequate punishment meted out to those who have brought this horror upon the world. But I see, as all save the utterly earth-blinded must see--that when the Day of Settlement comes, and we and our allies are in a position to impose terms, unless we go into the Council-Chamber with hearts set inflexibly on the Common Weal of the World--in a word, unless we invite Christ to a seat at the Board--the end may be even worse than the beginning;--this which we have hoped and prayed night be the final war may prove but the beginning of strifes incredible._)

"Only through Me!" ... The clear, high call comes pealing,
Above the thunders of the battle-plain;--
"Only through Me can Life's red wounds find healing;
Only through Me shall Earth have peace again.

Only through Me! ... Love's Might, all might transcending,
Alone can draw the poison-fangs of Hate.
Yours the beginning!--Mine a nobler ending,--
Peace upon Earth, and Man regenerate!

Only through Me can come the great awaking;
Wrong cannot right the wrongs that Wrong hath done;
Only through Me, all other gods forsaking,
Can ye attain the heights that must be won.

Only through Me shall Victory be sounded;
Only through Me can Right wield righteous sword;
Only through Me shall Peace be surely founded;
Only through Me! ... _Then bid Me to the Board!_"

* * * * *

_Can we not rise to such great height of glory?
Shall this vast sorrow spend itself in vain?
Shall future ages tell the woful story,--
"Christ by His own was crucified again"?_

JUDGMENT DAY

The nations are in the proving;
Each day is Judgment Day;
And the peoples He finds wanting
Shall pass--by the Shadowy Way.

THE HIGH THINGS

The Greatest Day that ever dawned,--
It was a Winter's Morn.

The Finest Temple ever built
Was a Shed where a Babe was born.

The Sweetest Robes by woman wrought
Were the Swaths by the Baby worn.

And the Fairest Hair the world has seen,
--Those Locks that were never shorn.

The Noblest Crown man ever wore,--
It was the Plaited Thorn.

The Grandest Death man ever died,--
It was the Death of Scorn.

The Sorest Grief by woman known
Was the Mother-Maid's forlorn.

The Deepest Sorrows e'er endured
Were by The Outcast borne.

The Truest Heart the world e'er broke
Was the Heart by man's sins torn.

THE EMPTY CHAIR

Wherever is an empty chair--
Lord, be Thou there!
And fill it--like an answered prayer--
With grace of fragrant thought, and rare
Sweet memories of him whose place
Thou takest for a little space!--
--With thought of that heroical
Great heart that sprang to Duty's call;
--With thought of all the best in him,
That Time shall have no power to dim;
--With thought of Duty nobly done,
And High Eternal Welfare won.

Think! Would you wish that he had stayed,
When all the rest The Call obeyed?
--That thought of self had held in thrall
His soul, and shrunk it mean and small?

Nay, rather thank the Lord that he
Rose to such height of chivalry;
--That, with the need, his loyal soul
Swung like a needle to its pole;
--That, setting duty first, he went
At once, as to a sacrament.

So, Lord, we thank Thee for Thy Grace,
And pray Thee fill his vacant place!

ROAD-MATES

From deepest depth, O Lord, I cry to Thee.
"_My Love runs quick to your necessity._"

I am bereft; my soul is sick with loss.
"_Dear one, I know. My heart broke on the Cross._"

What most I loved is gone. I walk alone.
"_My Love shall more than fill his place, my own._"

The burden is too great for me to bear.
"_Not when I'm here to take an equal share._"

The road is long, and very wearisome.
"_Just on in front I see the light of home._"

The night is black; I fear to go astray.
"_Hold My hand fast. I'll lead you all the way._"

My eyes are dim, with weeping all the night.
"_With one soft kiss I will restore your sight._"

And Thou wilt do all this for me?--for me?
"_For this I came--to bear you company._"

ALPHA--OMEGA

Curly head, and laughing eyes,--
Mischief that all blame defies.

Cricket,--footer,--Eton-jacket,--
Everlasting din and racket.

Tennis,--boating,--socks and ties,--
Tragedies,--and comedies.

Business,--sobered,--getting on,--
One girl now,--The Only One.

London Scottish,--sporran,--kilt,--
Bonnet cocked at proper tilt.

Dies Irae!--Off to France,--
Lord,--a safe deliverance!

Deadly work,--foul gases,--trenches;
Naught that radiant spirit quenches.

Letters dated "Somewhere--France,"--
Mud,--and grub,--and no romance.

Hearts at home all on the quiver,
Telegrams make backbones shiver.

Silence!--Feverish enquiry;--
Dies Irae!--Dies Irae!

His the joy,--and ours the pain,
But, ere long, we'll meet again.

Not too much we'll sorrow--for
It's both "à Dieu!" and "au revoir!"

HAIL!--AND FAREWELL!

They died that we might live,--
_Hail!--And Farewell!_
--All honour give
To those who, nobly striving, nobly fell,
That we might live!

That we might live they died,--
_Hail!--And Farewell!_
--Their courage tried,
By every mean device of treacherous hate,
Like Kings they died.

Eternal honour give,--
_Hail!--And Farewell!--_
--To those who died,
In that full splendour of heroic pride,
That we might live!

A SILENT TE DEUM

We thank Thee, Lord,
For all Thy Golden Silences,--
For every Sabbath from the world's turmoil;
For every respite from the stress of life;--
Silence of moorlands rolling to the skies,
Heath-purpled, bracken-clad, aflame with gorse;
Silence of grey tors crouching in the mist;
Silence of deep woods' mystic cloistered calm;
Silence of wide seas basking in the sun;
Silence of white peaks soaring to the blue;
Silence of dawnings, when, their matins sung,
The little birds do fall asleep again;
For the deep silence of high golden noons;
Silence of gloamings and the setting sun;
Silence of moonlit nights and patterned glades;
Silence of stars, magnificently still,
Yet ever chanting their Creator's skill;
For that high silence of Thine Open House,
Dim-branching roof and lofty-pillared aisle,
Where burdened hearts find rest in Thee awhile;
Silence of friendship, telling more than words;
Silence of hearts, close-knitting heart to heart
Silence of joys too wonderful for words;
Silence of sorrows, when Thou drawest near;
Silence of soul, wherein we come to Thee,
And find ourselves in Thine Immensity;
For that great silence where Thou dwell'st alone--
--Father, Spirit, Son, in One,
Keeping watch above Thine Own,--
Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords
Of praise beyond the reach of human words;
In our souls' silence, feeling only Thee,--
We thank Thee, thank Thee,
Thank Thee, Lord!

THE NAMELESS GRAVES

Unnamed at times, at times unknown,
Our graves lie thick beyond the seas;
Unnamed, but not of Him unknown;--
He knows!--He sees!

And not one soul has fallen in vain.
Here was no useless sacrifice.
From this red sowing of white seed
New life shall rise.

All that for which they fought lives on,
And flourishes triumphantly;
Watered with blood and hopeful tears,
It could not die.

The world was sinking in a slough
Of sloth, and ease, and selfish greed;
God surely sent this scourge to mould
A nobler creed.

Birth comes with travail; all these woes
Are birth-pangs of the days to be.
Life's noblest things are ever born
In agony.

So--comfort to the stricken heart!
Take solace in the thought that he
You mourn was called by God to such
High dignity.

BLINDED!

You that still have your sight,
Remember me!--
I risked my life, I lost my eyes,
That you might see.

Now in the dark I go,
That you have light.
Yours, all the joy of day,
I have but night.

Yours still, the faces dear,
The fields, the sky.
For me--ah me!--there's nought
But this black misery!

In this unending night,
I can but see
What once I saw, and fain
Would see again.
O, midnight of black pain!
Come, Comrade Death,
Come quick, and set me free,
And give me back my eyes again!

* * * * *

Nay then, Christ's vicar,
You who bear our pain,
Ours be it now to see
Your dark days lighted,
And your way made plain.

SAID THE WOUNDED ONE:--

Just see that we get full value
Of that for which we have paid.
The price has been a heavy one,
But the goods are there--and _we've paid-.
We've paid in our toil and our woundings;
We've paid in the blood we've shed;
We've paid in our bitter hardships;
We've paid with our many dead.

It's not payment in kind we ask for,
Two wrongs don't make much of a right.
All we ask is--that, what we have paid for,
You secure for us, all right and tight.

The Peace of the World's what we're after;
We've all had enough of King Cain,
And the Kaiser and all his bully-men,
With their World-Power big on the brain.

No!--we fought with a definite object,
And it's this--and we want it made plain,--
That it's God, and not any devil,
That's to rule in the world again,

OUR SHARE

And we ourselves? Are our hands clean?
Are our souls free from blame
For this world-tragedy?
Nay then! Like all the rest,
We had relaxed our hold on higher things,
And satisfied ourselves with smaller.
Ease, pleasure, greed of gold,--
Laxed morals even in these,--
We suffered them, as unaware
Of their soul-cankerings.
We had slipped back along the sloping way,
No longer holding First Things First,
But throning gods emasculate,--
Idols of our own fashioning,
Heads of sham gold and feet of crumbling clay.
If we would build anew, and build to stay,
We must find God again,
And go His way.

POLICEMAN X

"Shall it be Peace?
A voice within me cried and would not cease,--
'One man could do it if he would but dare.'"
(_From "Policeman X" in "Bees in Amber."_)