certain ancient karmic laws Set into motion æons gone. By us you will be guided on From plane to plane, and sphere to sphere, Until your tasks are finished here. Then back to earth, the home of man, To work again another span.’

p. 130

‘But, Angel, when will I see God?’

‘After the final path is trod; After you no more long, or crave, To see, or hear, or own, or have Aught beside—HIM. Then shall His face Reveal itself to you in space. And you shall find yourself made one With that Great Sun, behind the sun. Child, go thy way inside the gate, Where many eager loved ones wait. Death is but larger life begun.’

p. 131A VISION

p. 131

My soul beheld a vision of the Master:  Methought He stood with grieved and questioning eyes, Where Freedom drove its chariot to disaster And toilers heard, unheeding, toilers’ cries. Where man withheld God’s bounties from his neighbour, And fertile fields were sterilised by greed; Where Labour’s hand was lifted against labour, And suffering serfs to despots turned when freed.

Majestic rose tall steeple after steeple;  Imperious bells called worshippers to prayer; But as they passed, the faces of the people Were marred by envy, anger and despair. ‘Christ the Redeemer of the world has risen, Peace and good will,’ so rang the major strain; But forth from sweat-shops, tenement and prison Wailed minor protests, redolent with pain.

p. 132Methought about the Master, all unseeing, Fought desperate hosts of striking clan with clan, Their primal purpose, meant for labour’s freeing, Sunk in vindictive hate of man for man. Pretentious Wealth, in unearned robes of beauty, Flung Want a pittance from her bulging purse, While ill-paid Toil went on dull rounds of duty,  Hell in her heart, and on her lips a curse.

p. 132

Then spoke the Christ (so wondrous was my vision)  (Deep, deep, His voice, with sorrow’s cadence fraught): ‘This world to-day would be a realm elysian Had my disciples lived the love I taught. Un-Christlike is the Christian creed men fashion Who kneel to worship, and who rise to slay. Profane pretenders of my holy Passion, Ye nail Me newly to the cross each day.’

p. 133THE SECOND COMING

p. 133

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