When by the minds of men most beauteous Faith Seems doomed to death, And to her place is hoisted, by soul treason, The dullard Reason, p. 69Let me not hurry forth with flag unfurled To proselyte an unbelieving world. This is my task: in depths of unstarred night Or in diverting and distracting light To keep (in crowds, or in my room alone) Faith on her lofty throne; And whatsoever happen or befall, To see God’s hand in all. This is my task.

p. 69

When, in church pews, men worship God in words, But meet their kind with swords, When Fair Religion, stripped of holy passion, Walks masked as Fashion, Let me not wax indignant at the sight; Or waste my strength bewailing her sad plight. This is my task: to search in my own mind Until the qualities of God I find; To seek them in the hearts of friend and foe— Or high or low; And in my hours of toil, or prayer, or play, To live my creed each day. This is my task.

p. 70THE STATUE

p. 70

A granite rock in the mountain side Gazed on the world and was satisfied. It watched the centuries come and go, It welcomed the sunlight yet loved the snow, It grieved when the forest was forced to fall, Yet joyed when steeples rose white and tall In the valley below it, and thrilled to hear The voice of the great town roaring near.

When the mountain stream from its idle play Was caught by the mill-wheel and borne away And trained to labour, the gray rock mused, ‘Tree and verdure and stream are used By man the master, but I remain Friend of the mountain and star and plain, Unchanged forever by God’s decree While passing centuries bow to me.’

p. 71Then all unwarned, with a mighty shock Out of the mountain was wrenched the rock; Bruised and battered, and broken in heart It was carried away to the common mart. Wrenched, and ruined in peace and pride, ‘Oh, God is cruel,’ the granite cried, ‘Comrade of mountain, of star the friend, By all deserted—how sad my end.’

p. 71

A dreaming sculptor in passing by Gazed on the granite with thoughtful eye; Then stirred with a purpose supremely grand He bade his dream in the rock expand. And lo! from the broken and shapeless mass That grieved and doubted, it came to pass That a glorious statue of priceless worth And infinite beauty adorned the earth.

p. 72BEHOLD THE EARTH

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