William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

(A WARNING)

"Am I my brother's keeper?"
Yes, of a truth!
Thine asking is thine answer.
That self-condemning cry of Cain
Has been the plea of every selfish soul since then,
Which hath its brother slain.
God's word is plain,
And doth thy shrinking soul arraign.

Thy brother's keeper?
Yea, of a truth thou art!
For if not--who?
Are ye not both,--both thou and he
Of God's great family?
How rid thee of thy soul's responsibility?
For every ill in all the world
Each soul is sponsor and account must bear.
And He, and he thy brother of despair,
Claim, of thy overmuch, their share.

Thou hast had good, and he the strangled days;
But now,--the old things pass.
No longer of thy grace
Is he content to live in evil case
For ...

Each man is Captain of his Soul,
And each man his own Crew,
But the Pilot knows the Unknown Seas,
And He will bring us through.


We break new seas to-day,--
Our eager keels quest unaccustomed waters,
And, from the vast uncharted waste in front,
The mystic circles leap
To greet our prows with mightiest possibilities;
Bringing us--what?
--Dread shoals and shifting banks?
--And calms and storms?
--And clouds and biting gales?
--And wreck and loss?
--And valiant fighting-times?
And, maybe, Death!--and so, the Larger Life!

For should the Pilot deem it best
To cut the voyage short,
He sees beyond the sky-line, and
He'll bring us into Port.

And, maybe, Life,--Life on a bounding tide,
And chance of glorious...

Fold up the tent!
The sun is in the West.
To-morrow my untented soul will range
Among the blest.
    And I am well content,
    For what is sent, is sent,
    And God knows best.

Fold up the tent,
And speed the parting guest!
The night draws on, though night and day are one
On this long quest.
    This house was only lent
    For my apprenticement--
    What is, is best.

Fold up the tent!
Its slack ropes all undone,
Its pole all broken, and its cover rent,--
Its work is done.
    But mine--tho' spoiled and spent
    Mine earthly tenement--
    Is but begun.

Fold up the tent!
Its tenant would be gone,
To fairer skies than mortal eyes
May look upon.
All that I loved has passed,
And left me at th...

In Christ there is no East or West,
In Him no South or North,
But one great Fellowship of Love
Throughout the whole wide earth.

In Him shall true hearts everywhere
Their high communion find.
His service is the golden cord
Close-binding all mankind.

Join hands then, Brothers of the Faith,
Whatever your race may be!--
Who serves my Father as a son
Is surely kin to me.

In Christ now meet both East and West,
In Him meet South and North,
All Christly souls are one in Him,
Throughout the whole wide earth.

Where one is,
There am I,--
                No man goeth alone!

Though he fly to earth's remotest bound,
Though his soul in the depths of sin be drowned,--
                No man goeth alone!

Though he take him the wings of fear, and flee
Past the outermost realms of light;
Though he weave him a garment of mystery,
And hide in the womb of night,--
                No man goeth alone!

Though apart in the city's heart he dwell,
Though he wander beyond the stars,
Though he bury himself in his nethermost hell,
And vanish behind the bars,--
                No man goeth alone!

For I, God, am the soul of man,
And none can Me dethrone.
Where one is,
There am I,--
                No man goeth alone!

An inconclusive peace!--
A peace that would be no peace--
Naught but a treacherous truce for breeding
Of a later, greater, baser-still betrayal!--
"No!" ...
The spirits of our myriad valiant dead,
Who died to make peace sure and life secure,
Thunder one mighty cry of righteous indignation,--
One vast imperative, unanswerable "No!" ...
"Not for that, not for that, did we die!"--
They cry;--
"--To give fresh life to godless knavery!
--To forge again the chains of slavery
Such as humanity has never known!
We gave our lives to set Life free,
Loyally, willingly gave we,
Lest on our children, and on theirs,
Should come like misery.
And now, from our souls' heights and depths,
We cry to you,--"Beware,
Lest you defraud us of one smallest atom of th...

By the grace of God and the courage
Of the peoples far and wide,
By the toil and sweat of those who lived,
And the blood of those who died,
We have won the fight, we have saved the Right,
For the Lord was on our side.

We have come through the valley of shadows,
We have won to the light again,
We have smitten to earth the evil thing,
And our sons have proved them men.
But not alone by our might have we won,
For the Lord fought in our van.

When the night was at its darkest,
And never a light could we see,--
When earth seemed like to be enslaved
In a monstrous tyranny;--
Then the flaming sword of our Over-Lord
Struck home for liberty.

All the words in the world cannot tell you
What brims in our hearts for you;
For the lives y...

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.

Bond-slave to Christ, and in my bonds rejoicing,
Earmarked to Him I counted less than nought;
His man henceforward, eager to be voicing
That wondrous Love which Saul the Roman sought.

Sought him and found him, working bitter sorrow;
Found him and claimed him, chose him for his own;
Bound him in darkness, till the glorious morrow
Unsealed his eyes to that he had not known.

"See this my garden,
    Large and fair!"
--Thus, to his friend,
The Philosopher.

"'Tis not too long,"
His friend replied,
With truth exact,--
"Nor yet too wide.
But well compact,
If somewhat cramped
On every side."

Quick the reply--
"But see how high!--
It reaches up
To God's blue sky!"

Not by their size
Measure we men
Or things.
Wisdom, with eyes
Washed in the fire,
Seeketh the things
That are higher--
Things that have wings,
Thoughts that aspire.

Is there, in you or me,
Seed of that poison-tree
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
Lifts all the world towards God's good purposing.