Poems of Peace

Front matter

Including

The Lyrical-Dramatic Poem

Eolaus

Eolaus

EOLAUS

A Lyrical-Dramatic Poem

Dramatis Personæ.

Eolaus.

The Prophet.

Earth.

Heaven.

Cosmos.

Voices of Nature.

Voices of Truth.

Echoes.

Scene.—A beautiful Island, wooded. Eolaus sitting on a fallen tree near the sea-shore.

Eolaus. Unto this lonely Island I repair To search for peace. After long days and nights Upon the waters, storm-tossed and fatigued, My skiff touched thy fair harbour, blessèd Isle. Now on thy fragrant bosom I will rest, And in thy spiritual ecstasy Sweetly participate: thy loveliness Entrances me; thy restfulness enweaves

My thoughts with peace imperishable; thou Art silent, solitary, beautiful, And I am lonely; yet thy solitude Perchance will comfort me, and take away My loneliness and pain. O Solitude! Thou habitation of aspiring hearts; Thou light and beacon of the pure; thou guide Of them that cry in darkness; thou sweet friend Of sorrow-stricken wanderers; thou staff And stay of the strong climber up the hills, Trackless and strange, of Truth; instructor thou, And teacher of the teachable and true, Beloved of the lowly, wise, and good, Be my companion now, and take away The world’s ache from my bosom! I am tired Of the vain Highways, where the noise and din Drowns all but sad remembrance; tired of all The tumult and the terror and the tears That rule discordant in the House of Life, Shaking but not destroying, as the storms, Confederate with the oceans, shake the shores And rock-bound margins of the continents. I seek the peace that does not change; the calm That knows no storm; the Silence that remains. Pleasure disturbs, and does not satisfy: When the excitements of the senses fade, Sorrow and pain return, and leave the heart Remorseful, desolate. As o’er the waste

And barren moor the lonely curlew cries, So wails the bird of anguish o’er the mind Sated with pleasure; Woe and Want repair To the abode of Selfishness, and take Legions of miseries with them. I would find Where Wisdom is, where Peace abides, where Truth, Majestic, changeless, and eternal, stands Untouched by the illusions of the world: For surely there is Knowledge, Truth, and Peace For him who seeks, seeing that ignorance And error and affliction are; these prove The unseen truths obversely darkness makes Light sure and certain, though we see it not. We sleep and wake, and, waking, know the dream That troubled us in sleep; how it arose, Phantasmal and chaotic, in the mind Left all ungoverned; even so perchance This life of passion and of wild desire (Troubled, chaotic, and not understood), May be, as ’twere, a dream; and if a dream Of the unmastered mind, we shall awake Out of the nightmare of our miseries, And know the gladness of Reality. But how shall one awake? How, if not by Bridling his passions, curbing his desires By masterful dominion of the will? If passions be the troubled dreams of life, And not its substance and reality,

Then he who shakes off passion shall awake And know the Truth: surely this must be so! Therefore unto this unfrequented place Have I addressed myself, that I may gain, By purity and strong self-mastery, Th’ awakened vision that doth set men free From painful slumber and the night of grief. Here unobserved and solitary, I Will purify my heart and train my mind In the true ways of sweet unselfishness, Subduing self and passion; so perchance The changeless Truth will be revealed to me, And I shall move, wherever Duty calls, Serene and sorrowless. Moreover, here An aged Prophet dwells, so I am told, Who will instruct me in the Silent Way Which winds through the morasses of the mind Unto the firm heights of accomplished Truth. Him will I seek when I have slept awhile, For weariness now urges me to rest. Lies down. Thou Zephyrus! thou sweet and cooling breath That temperest the broiling mid-day rays Of June’s extremest heat, blow o’er me now, And fan me into sweet forgetfulness! I am a-wearied, battling with the waves. Now will I sleep: after my long, long search

Upon the waters, I am spent with toil. Watch o'er me, Nature, I am safe with thee. Sleeps.

Voices of Nature.

First Voice.

Listen, O Eolaus! Woven of passion is the Universe; Vain is thy puny strength to break its web. Submit thyself to that which in thee cries: Gratify nature; do not fly delight. Eolaus, come! Let me lead thee, Eolaus! Let me guide thee, Eolaus! Come, Eolaus! Eolaus, come!

Echo.

Eolaus, come!

Second Voice.

There is sweet intoxication In the Pleasure-house of Earth; Aye-renewed exhilaration, Love and happiness and mirth.

First Voice.

Come, Eolaus! Eolaus, come!

Echo.

Eolaus, come!

Third Voice.

What is seen is sure; What is felt is known Pleasure is secure; Joy is life alone.

First Voice.

Come, Eolaus! Eolaus, come!

Echo,

Eolaus, come!

Second Voice.

Come and drink the wine of life; Pleasure's vintage come and taste; Leave thy fruitless search and strife; Holy vigils wear and waste Youth, for love and revels framed: Nature thus is blindly blamed.

First Voice.

Come, Eolaus! Eolaus, come!

Echo.

Eolaus, come!

Third Voice.

Think no more of low and high; Leave thy climbings, and forget Aim and struggle, doubt and sigh;

Level is the pathway set Of enjoyment: seek no more; Rest thou here, thy woe is o'er

First Voice.

Eolaus, come! Let me lead thee, Eolaus! Let me guide thee, Eolaus! Come, Eolaus! Eolaus, come!

Echo.

Eolaus, come!

Earth.

Unnumbered ages have I rolled Through the abysmal spaces; And eons new from eons old Th' Eternal Finger traces; And I must follow where it moves: No rest! no rest! With hopes and fears and hates and loves Unblest! unblest!

Fourth Voice.

Listen, O Eolaus! Sorrow doth darken all the universe; Its creatures are involved in pain and woe; Helpless they cry, and no one hears or aids;

Dark, dark is life, and none its meaning know. Eolaus, hear! None can lead thee, Eolaus! None can guide thee, Eolaus! Hear, Eolaus! Eolaus, hear!

Echo.

Eolaus, hear!

Fifth Voice.

There is pain and woe and sorrow In the hospital of Earth; Every night and morn and morrow Bringeth drought and death and dearth.

Fourth Voice.

Hear, Eolaus! Eolaus, hear!

Echo.

Eolaus, hear!

Sixth Voice.

What is seen's unsure; What is felt is blown; Self is insecure; Life is pain alone.

Fourth Voice.

Hear, Eolaus! Eolaus, hear!

Echo.

Eolaus, hear!

Several Voices.

We moan and sigh; We sob and cry; We wander, like the wind upon the stream, Vainly for peace, Seeking release From the keen pain of our unending dream.

Fourth Voice.

Eolaus, hear! None can lead thee, Eolaus! None can guide thee, Eolaus! Hear, Eolaus! Eolaus, hear!

Echo.

Eolaus, hear!

Voices of Truth.

First Voice.

Awake, O Eolaus! Arise! shake off the dreams of Night, Open thine eyes, and see the Light; Passionless Wisdom waits for thee In sorrowless serenity. Leave thou the fleeting shapes of Time,

The rugged Way of Truth sublime Walk thou; nor fear, nor grieve, nor lust, Scorning the self whose end is dust. Wake, Eolaus! Eolaus, wake!

Chorus of Voices.

Eolaus, wake!

Second Voice.

Knowledge is for him who seeks; Wisdom crowneth him who strives; Peace in sinless silence speaks; All things perish, Truth survives.

First Voice.

Wake, Eolaus! Eolaus, wake!

Voices.

Eolaus, wake!

Third Voice.

Follow where Virtue leads, High and still higher; Listen when Pureness pleads, Quench not her fire. Lo! he shall see Reality, Who cometh upward, cleansed from all desire.

First Voice.

Wake, Eolaus! Eolaus, wake!

Voices.

Eolaus, wake!

Fourth Voice.

He who attaineth unto Purity The faultless Parthenon of Truth doth see. Awake! disperse the dreams of self and sin! Behold the Shining Gateway! enter in!

First Voice.

Wake, Eolaus! Eolaus, wake!

Voices.

Eolaus, wake!

Fifth Voice.

Conquer thyself, Then thou shalt know; Climb to the high, Leave thou the low. Deliverance Shall him entrance Who strives with sins and sorrows, tears and pains Till he attains.

First Voice.

Wake, Eolaus! Eolaus, wake!

Voices.

Eolaus, wake!

Heaven.

In the visions of the ages I am evermore reflected; In the precepts of the Sages I am spoken and rejected. I can suffer no distortion, Sin and sorrow cannot stain me; Fixed and faultless in proportion, He must bend who would attain me.

Eolaus, waking.

Who will lead me, who will guide me In my deep perplexity?

Heaven.

In the middle of the Island Waits the Sage whom you are seeking; On the Rock which cannot crumble Sits the Prophet who will guide you. Eolaus wakes. Eolaus. 'Mid the conflicting visions of the mind I darkly grope, and nevermore can find The steadfastness and surety that I seek: Where clamour reigns the Silence cannot speak. So many voices and so many ways!

So many wand'rings through the nights and days! One Way I seek, one Voice I long to hear, But Truth eludes me and does not appear.— Now to this Island's centre I repair To seek the Prophet who abideth there.

The scene changes to the centre of the Island. An aged and venerable man appears, sitting upon a rock.

Eolaus. Art thou the Prophet whom I seek? Prophet. I am. Eolaus. Be thou my guide, for thou art wise, and I Am ignorant; speak thou, and I will hear; Teach me, and I will be instructed; make Me to behold the Path which leads to Truth, And I will walk it though it be o'erstrewn With flints and burrs; and if it needs must come Within the round of holy discipline That one shall walk that way with naked feet, Or else forego the end and view of Truth, Then barefoot I will walk it, and account Bleedings and wounds and lacerations As aids unto my will and fortitude, As tasks wisely ordained, and so to be Gladly encountered in my pilgrimage. Mine ears are open, open thou mine eyes, For I am blind, and cannot find my way. Prophet. He who would see with the all-seeing eye Single of Truth, must first his blindness know.

He cannot see who does not wish to see, Thinking he sees already, while his acts Proclaim his spiritual blindness. Truth Waits on the lowly-hearted. He who knows That being passion-bound, he yet is blind, Has groped his way to Wisdom. Thou dost see. Eolaus, I see naught but the darkness of my mind, And in that darkness ever-changing shapes Of things phantasmal that perplex and haunt, Eluding knowledge; I am ignorant, Yet strive to know; nor will I cease to strive Till I attain. Prophet. Seeing thy darkness, thou So far dost see; knowing thine ignorance, So far hast thou attained to knowledge: seek, And thou shalt surely find. Eolaus. How shall I seek? Prophet. Increase thy strength and self-reliance; make The spectres of thy mind obey thy will: See thou command thyself; nor let no mood, No subtle passion nor no swift desire Hurl thee to baseness; but, should’st thou be hurled, Rise, and regain thy manhood, taking gain Of lowliness and wisdom from thy fall. Strive ever for the mastery of thy mind, And glean some good from every circumstance That shall confront thee; make thy store of strength Richer for ills encountered and o’ercome.

Submit to naught but nobleness; rejoice Like a strong athlete straining for the prize, When thy full strength is tried; be not the slave Of lusts and cravings and indulgences, Of disappointments, miseries and griefs, Fears, doubts, and lamentations, but control Thyself with calmness: master that in thee Which masters others, and which heretofore Has mastered thee: let not thy passions rule, But rule thy passions; subjugate thyself Till passion is transmuted into peace, And wisdom crown thee; so shalt thou attain And, by attaining, know. Eolaus. Hard is the path Which thou hast set before me; steep and strange Its ascent; unfamiliar and unknown The Place whereto it leads: I see it rise Precipitous but yet accessible, Beyond the reach of vision: what awaits The climber, none but he who climbs may know; For if one ask, and, with believing ears Attend the spiritual Mountaineer In his depicture of the unknown heights, What knows he more, though more believing? What Gains he but words, and wonderings, and dreams, Unless he also climb? I would o’ermount Faith, and ascend to knowledge; I would not Rest idly in the valleys of belief,

Content with speculation; I would be The Mountaineer, and know. Prophet. The Mountaineer Is he who, dauntless, climbs. Eolaus. But yet the way,— Where leads it? All beyond the reach of sight Is dark, unknown, mysterious. What avails The strenuous ascent, if some precipice The daring climber claim, or loosened rock Dash him to death, or cold and hunger make Ravage upon his strength? Passion is sweet, And ’tis enjoyed and known; and round about The habitations at the mountain’s base, In the familiar valleys of the mind, Twine the sweet flowers of soft affections, Filling the air with fragrance and delight, And mellow fruits of love and labour hang Ripe for the plucking; shall I these renounce, The sure and known, for the unsure, unknown? Are these not safe, substantial and possessed? While that I seek,—where is it? Is this Truth, This idea of Reality which haunts My mind, and drives me whither I know not, Itself a speculation? What abides? Alas! all that we have and know is caught In transiency; changes that never end Roll wave-like o’er the restless universe, And man is tossed therein; so it befalls

That everything which comes into his grasp— Bearing the face of an enduring joy— After a little fever of delight Is torn away again: nothing endures: All things are dying even while they live; And life is passing while it seems to wait. There is no sweet possession, no rare joy, No cherished circumstance, no prized delight, No lovely thing, of which it can be said,— “There is no time when this will never be.” What comes to pass, passes, and comes no more; What grows, decays; what rises, falls; what lives And flourishes, dies and doth fade away: Where then is surety? Where is knowledge? Where Is rest and refuge? Prophet. There is rest in Truth. Eolaus. Is there no rest in death? Prophet. There is no rest In death. Eolaur. No rest in death nor life? Prophet. No rest In death nor life ; yet or in death or life, Where Truth is, there is rest. Eolaus. Prophet of Good, Lead me to the Abiding; set my feet Upon the austere Highway which doth lead To the Eternal City: I would find The rest and refuge of undying Truth.

Prophet. Look thou within. Lo, in the midst of change Abides the Changeless; at the heart of strife The Perfect Peace reposes. At the root Of all the restless striving of the world Is passion, and at passion’s heart is stored Truth; yea, the Law of laws is in thy mind, And written on the tablet of thy heart Are its eternal edicts: subjugate Thy passions, and the truth will be revealed, For whoso follows passion findeth pain, But whoso conquers passion findeth peace. Eolaus. Not to be subject unto passion, but To subject passion, is this then the way? Prophet. Thou hast well said. As the sweet nut is held In the hard shell, and cannot be enjoyed But by destruction of the husk, so Truth In passion is preserved, but is not known Till passion be destroyed and cast away. He who preserveth passion, dreading loss Of sweetness and enjoyment, cannot know The bliss of Truth, nor find where wisdom is: He is a prodigal, feeding upon The husks of life, the empty shows of things, And knowing not its kernel, seeing not The changeless substance of Reality. He only knows who conquers evil; he

Who masters self, passes beyond the dim Uncertain light of faith, and on him breaks The light of Perfect Knowledge which enfolds Emancipation, gladness, perfect peace. Eolaus. I know that sorrow follows passion; know That grief and emptiness and heartaches wait Upon all earthly joys; so am I sad; Yet Truth must be, and, being, can be found; And though I am in sorrow, this I know— I shall be glad when I have found the Truth. Prophet. There is no gladness like the joy of Truth. The pure in heart swim in a sea of bliss That evermore nor sorrow knows, nor pain; For who can see the Cosmos and be sad? To know is to be happy; they rejoice Who have attained Perfection; these are they Who live, and know, and realize the Truth. Eolaus, I strive for that Perfection; shall I reach The Heights of Blessed Vision? Prophet. Comfort ye, The Heights of Blessed Vision ye shall reach. Eolaus. Yet how, and when, and where? I am confused. The Way is near, and yet I see it not! Prophet. He must be friendly with the worm and toad Who would be the companion of the wise, And know the Cosmic Splendour; he must stoop

Who seeks to stand; must fall who fain would rise; Must know the low, ascending to the high; He who would know the Great, must not disdain To diligently wait upon the small: He wisdom finds who finds humility. Eolaus. Speak on, O Prophet! I attend thy words. Prophet. The beasts can neither bend nor stand erect, Being beasts,—abandon bestial tendencies; But man can bend, and man can stand erect, Being man,—embrace pure thoughts and stainless deeds; Here is deliverance. Man’s redemption lies In man himself, yet is not born of self, But takes its rise in Truth: man can achieve: He findeth Truth who findeth self-control. Eolaus. When I have found the meaning of thy words, I know I shall be wise as thou art wise; But now I hear thee, and yet hear thee not. Prophet. Thou wilt perceive the substance of my words, And understand their meaning, when they stir That meaning in thyself, and in thy mind Stand clear and well-reflected; thou canst know Only by subjugation of thyself, And practice of the highest: all that’s real Is inward; outward things are fleeting shows, Vain and illusory, holding nor rest

Nor refuge for the wise: obey the Right, And wrong shall ne’er again assail thy peace, Nor error hurt thee more: attune thy heart To Purity, and thou shalt reach the Place Where sorrow is not, and all evil ends. The Holy Ones know not the name of sin; Goodness and Truth make glad the good and true; The Perfect Ones behold the Perfect Law; Struggle and strife are ended in the Truth. All things are holy to the holy mind, All uses are legitimate and pure, All occupations blest and sanctified, And every day a Sabbath. Eolaus. I perceive Some glimmering of a Light transcending light, Some outline of a mighty Principle More beautiful than beauty; see some dim Appearing of the vision of a Life Vaster than life: the Cosmos is sublime! My eyes will open, I shall see the Truth, And, seeing, shall be glad for evermore! Prophet. Be mindful, or the thought that soars will sink: Be lowly, patient, well-instructed; hold Thyself in check; by many single steps All journeys reach completion: as the tree That rears its stately head toward the sky— Bestowing shade and shelter—issued from

A tiny seed, and, waiting patiently Upon the law of growth, it came to be The thing majestic that it now appears,— So wisdom from a single act of good Well-planted, watched, and watered, comes at last To its sublime proportions. Eolaus. I will tend The plant of wisdom with all diligence, And watch its growth toward perfection. Show me the unobserved and lowly Way; Let praise, reward, and popularity Be no more sweet to me, and no more sought; Let self be blotted out, I seek the Truth. Prophet. Now listen, and attend:—the pigeons pick Holes in the buildings, and the storm o’erturns That they had weakened: little failings eat Holes in the citadel of Character Which, weakened thus, cannot withstand the storms Of circumstance, but weakly falls before Tempestuous temptations. As the bee Buildeth the honeycomb, the bird its nest, The builder his strong house, e’en bit by bit, Straw unto straw, and stone laid upon stone, Until the finished thing and perfect whole Crowns effort with success,—so the wise man, By adding thought to thought and deed to deed In ways of good, buildeth his character. Little by little he accomplishes

His noble ends; in quiet patience works Diligently, while others sleep, or slake Their hot desires in riot; nowise moved From his main purpose by perplexities, Falls, errors, failures, difficulties, pains, Daily he builds into his heart and mind Pure thoughts, high aspirations, selfless deeds, Until at last the edifice of Truth Is finished, and behold! there rises and appears The Temple of Perfection. Eolaus. I have found The little Gate mean and moss-grown which leads Into a dark, despised, neglected Way Which, further, leads to glorious esplanades And heights of Splendour; foolish men avoid The lowly, and thereby the lofty lose; Despise the small, and the majestical Miss, and see not. Prophet of Good and Truth, Wisely and well hast thou instructed me; Thou hast revealed to me the Path of Peace; My eyes are opened, and at last I see Thy lowly Way, and I will enter in. Prophet. The Perfect Way awaits thy strenuous tread; Behold where rise, precipitous, yet grand, The Hills of Virtue; higher, and beyond, The Peaks of Blessedness; and yet again, Upon the lofty Summits of the Truth, Where clouds and darkness are not, and where rests

Eternal Splendour; there, abiding Joy Awaits thy coming. Onward, and disperse The dark delusions of thy self! Evil Is Good denied, is darkness and no more. Let self be nothing, and the Truth be all; Thus conquer pain: acquire serenity; Wisdom accompanies tranquillity; The self-subdued the fadeless Glory know: Be watchful, fearless, faithful, patient, pure: By earnest meditation sound the depths Profound of life, and scale the heights sublime Of Love and Wisdom. He who does not find The Way of Meditation, cannot reach Emancipation and enlightenment. But thou wilt find the Way of Holy Thought; With mind made calm and steadfast, thou wilt see The Permanent amid the mutable, The Truth eternal in the things that change: Thou wilt behold the Perfect Law: Cosmos From Chaos rises when the conquered self Lies underneath man’s heel: Love be thy strength; Look on the passion-tortured multitudes, And have compassion on them; know their pain By thy long sorrow ended. Thou wilt come To perfect peace, and so wilt bless the world, Leading unto the High and Holy Way The feet of them that seek.—And now I go To my Abode; go thou unto thy work.

Eolaus. Prophet of Peace, I go: and unto Thee, Spirit of Truth, I come. To all the world, And all that lives, for evermore be peace.

Cosmos.

I am; Perfection is, and Peace; Evil is gone, beholding Me; And they from sin and sorrow cease Who look upon my Symmetry. When fault and failure find my Form, Lo, fault and failure are no more! I am the sunshine and the storm, The whisper, and the ocean’s roar! The creeping action that deceives, The lie, the theft, the murderer’s ire, All these my Crucible receives, They burn in my Celestial Fire. All superstitions, errors, wiles, The crawling craft, the cruel lust, All that debases and defiles I grind, and scatter in the dust. The Nations rise, the Empires fall, And I eternally rehearse, To scene and strain majestical, The Drama of the Universe. The Eons pass, the Systems pale, Unchanged their changes I behold;

They listen, and I tell my Tale; I all their fleeting forms enfold. Who knoweth Me, becometh Me; Who hath my Vision finds release From Darkness and Captivity. I am; Perfection is, and Peace.

Buddha

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

Under Mount Ratnagira’s western shade, Weary and worn with his long search for Truth, Sorrowing, unsatisfied, disconsolate, Sat Buddha, knowing not where he should turn To find the Truth that he had so long sought— The Truth that maketh steadfast, strong, and pure, The Truth that bringeth peace and blessèd rest. The Schools had failed him; the philosophies, Hoary and ancient, had not stilled the cry Of passion in his heart; and passion’s child, Sorrow, was with him still; the scriptures, creeds, Proud pillars of the State, had failed to bear The weight of his great woe, crumbling away Under temptation, leaving him the prey Still of desire and pain and clouded mind. Mortifications he had tried, and they

Had left him strengthless, wan, wanting the Truth; And now he seemed as one defeated, borne Upon the stream of Fate, helpless, alone.

But while the Buddha brooded in the shade, Suddenly on his ear there fell a cry, A sob of pain, a pitiful strange sigh; Whereat he rose, and left the shade, and sought (He scarce knew why, but that there leaped within His sorrowing heart a mighty unknown love) Whence came the cry; and presently he saw, Upon the road, ’mid thirsty clouds of dust, Under the fierce blaze of the Indian sun, A shepherd, driving hard a flock of sheep; And in the rear there lagged a little lamb With wounded feet, bleating most piteously, The while the ewe, with anguish deep and sore, Cried o’er her little one, knowing that she Was helpless to relieve her.

When Buddh saw The piteous spectacle, compassion slew His own deep sorrow; and he straightway took The wounded lamb, and bore it in his arms, Saying, "Vain are the strivings of the soul After vain knowledge; vain the learnèd lore That hath not pity in it; vain is life That hath not love; and whatsoe’er is false,

And what uncertain, though it seemeth true, This thing is true, that I should pity thee. The priests who pray and read, and read and pray, Die in their sins at last, and do not find The Love I mourn for, the deep Truth I seek; And better were it that I ease thy pain Than pray with them, and seek and never find. Thee will I love; yea, I will pity thee Whom none will pity; thee will I relieve; Tired of the soulless theories of men, I, Buddh, will stoop to thee, thou dumb, weak thing, Whom men despise, knowing that this is true, Whate’er is doubtful, and whate’er unsure, Pity and Love are right; whatever fades And perishes, Compassion will not fade, And Love will never perish.” So he took Into his arms the weary, wounded thing Which nestled in his bosom, and became Quiet and peaceful; and the anxious ewe Walked by his side, looking into his face, Glad that her lamb had found those blessèd arms: And so she walked, and dumbly worshipped him, Knowing him Buddha, the compassionate.

And Buddha in that hour entered the Way Which he had vainly sought in schools and creeds; Entered the Path which no philosophy Leads unto, and which none shall ever find

But by sweet deeds of Love, forgetting self; And in his heart there grew a holy Love; And in his mind a knowledge new and strange; And his whole being felt a painless peace; Sorrow and pain were not; and then he knew That he had found the holy Truth at last.

And from thenceforward Buddha lived the Truth, And taught its practice; and from far and near Came men and women who had sought the Truth, And at his feet they sat and worshipped him, Learning of love and pity; finding bliss And peace that cannot fail; and him they called Deliverer, Redeemer, Blessèd Lord. And even they who understood not, sensed Faintly this truth which one day they should know:— Better than learning is a loving heart; And to give comfort to one wounded lamb Is higher than the wisdom of the schools, And greater than the world’s philosophy.

If Men only Understood

If men only understood That the wrong act of a Brother Should not call from them another, But should be annulled with kindness, That their eyes should aid his blindness, They would find the Heavenly Portal Leading on to Love immortal— If they only understood.

If men only understood That their wrong can never smother The wrong-doing of another; That by hatred hate increases, And by Good all evil ceases, They would cleanse their hearts and actions, Banish thence all vile detractions— If they only understood.

If men only understood That the heart that sins must sorrow, That the hateful mind to-morrow Reaps its barren harvest, weeping, Starving, resting not, nor sleeping; Tenderness would fill their being, They would see with Pity’s seeing— If they only understood.

If men only understood All the emptiness and aching Of the sleeping and the waking Of the souls they judge so blindly, Of the hearts they pierce unkindly, They, with gentler words and feeling, Would apply the balm of healing— If they only understood.

If men only understood That their hatred and resentment Slays their peace and sweet contentment, Hurts themselves, helps not another, Does not cheer one lonely Brother, They would seek the better doing Of good deeds which leaves no rueing— If they only understood.

If men only understood How Love conquers; how prevailing Is its might, grim hate assailing; How Compassion endeth sorrow, Maketh wise, and doth not borrow Pain of passion; they would ever Live in Love, in hatred never— If they only understood.

Practice and Perception

Questioning Life and Destiny and Truth, I sought the dark and labyrinthine Sphinx, Who spake to me this strange and wondrous thing:— “Concealment only lies in blinded eyes, And God alone can see the Form of God.”

I sought to solve this hidden mystery Vainly by paths of blindness and of pain, But when I found the Way of Love and Peace, Concealment ceased, and I was blind no more: Then saw I God e’en with the eyes of God.