Are dropping from Religion's tree;

And souls are crying to be free.

Free from the load of fear and grief, Man fashioned in an ignorant age; Free from the ache of unbelief He fled to in rebellious rage.

Man fashioned in an ignorant age;

He fled to in rebellious rage.

No church can bind him to the things That fed the first crude souls, evolved; For, mounting up on daring wings, He questions mysteries all unsolved.

That fed the first crude souls, evolved;

He questions mysteries all unsolved.

Above the chant of priests, above The blatant voice of braying doubt, He hears the still, small voice of Love, Which sends its simple message out.

The blatant voice of braying doubt,

Which sends its simple message out.

And clearer, sweeter, day by day, Its mandate echoes from the skies, "Go roll the stone of self away, And let the Christ within thee rise."

Its mandate echoes from the skies,

And let the Christ within thee rise."

 Music In The Flat

When Tom and I were married, we took a little flat; I had a taste for singing and playing and all that. And Tom, who loved to hear me, said he hoped I would not stop All practice, like so many wives who let their music drop. So I resolved to set apart an hour or two each day To keeping vocal chords and hands in trim to sing and play.

The second morning I had been for half an hour or more At work on Haydn's masses, when a tap came at my door. A nurse who wore a dainty cap and apron, and a smile, Ran down to ask if I would cease my music for awhile. The lady in the flat above was very ill, she said, And the sound of my piano was distracting to 

 Prev. P 29/60 next