I;-- Thou;-- We;-- They;-- Small words, but mighty. In their span Are bound the life and hopes of man. For, first, his thoughts of his own self are full; Until another comes his heart to rule. For them, life's best is centred round their love; Till younger lives come all their love to prove. CUP OF MIXTURE For every Guest who comes with him to sup, The Host compounds a strangely mingled cup;-- Red Wine of Life and Dregs of Bitterness, And, will-he, nil-he, each must drink it up. WEAVERS ALL Warp and Woof and Tangle,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. Living and dying--and mightier dead, For the shuttle, once sped, is sped--is sped;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. White, and Black, and Hodden-gray,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. To every weaver one golden strand Is given in trust by the Master-Hand;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. And that we weave, we know not,-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. The threads we see, but the pattern is known To the Master-Weaver alone, alone;-- _Weavers of Webs are we_. THE CLEARER VISION When, with bowed head, And silent-streaming tears, With mingled hopes and fears, To earth we yield our dead; The Saints, with clearer sight, Do cry in glad accord,-- "_A soul released from prison Is risen, is risen,-- Is risen to the glory of the Lord_." SHADOWS Shadows are but for the moment-- Quickly past; And then the sun the brighter shines That it was overcast. For Light is Life! Gracious and sweet, The fair life-giving sun doth scatter blessings With his light and heat,-- And shadows. But the shadows that come of the life-giving sun Crouch at his feet. No mortal life but has its shadowed times-- Not one! Life without shadow could not taste the full Sweet glory of the sun. No shadow falls, but there, behind it, stands The Light Behind the wrongs and sorrows of life's troublous ways Stands RIGHT. THE INN OF LIFE _As It was in the Beginning,-- Is Now,-- And...? Anno Domini I_. * * * * * "No room! No room! The Inn is full, Yea--overfull. No room have we for such as ye-- Poor folk of Galilee, Pass on! Pass on!" "Nay then!-- Your charity Will ne'er deny Some corner mean, Where she may lie unseen. For see!-- Her time is nigh." "Alack! And she So young and fair! Place have we none; And yet--how bid ye gone? Stay then!--out there Among the beasts Ye may find room, And eke a truss To lie upon." _Anno Domini 1913, etc., etc_. * * * * * "No room! No room! No room for Thee, Thou Man of Galilee! The house is full, Yea, overfull. There is no room for Thee,-- Pass on! Pass on! Nay--see! The place is packed. "We scarce have room For our own selves, So how shall we Find room for Thee, Thou Man of Galilee,-- Pass on! Pass on!