running, yet I turn from toil and duty, Oftentimes to just the art of being glad; Yes, to just the joys that make the earth-world bright (While I run, while I run). For the soul that worships God must worship beauty, And the heart that thinks of You can not be sad, Lord of light.

p. 53

I am running, yet I pause to greet my brother, And I lean to rid my garden of its weed; Yes, I lean, although I lift my thoughts above (While I run, while I run). And I think of that command, ‘Love one another,’ As I hear discordant sounds of creed with creed, Lord of Love.

I am running, and the road is lit with splendour, And it brightens and shines fairer with each span; Yes, it brightens like the highway in a dream (While I run, while I run). And my heart to all the world grows very tender, For I seem to see the Christ in every man, Lord supreme.

p. 54MARTYRS OF PEACE

p. 54

Fame writes ever its song and story, For heroes of war, in letters of glory.

But where is the story and where is the song For the heroes of peace and the martyrs of wrong?

They fight their battles in shop and mine; They die at their posts and make no sign.

They herd like beasts in a slaughter pen; They live like cattle and suffer like men.

Why, set by the horrors of such a life, Like a merry-go-round seems the battle’s strife,

And the open sea, and the open boat, And the deadly cannon with bellowing throat.

Oh, what are they all, with death thrown in, To the life that has nothing to lose or win—

p. 55The life that has nothing to hope or gain But ill-paid labour and beds of pain?

p. 55

Fame, where is your story and where is your song For the martyrs of peace and the victims of wrong?

p. 56HOME

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