The while the War Lord speaks the myriad waits, And at his word it cannot choose but die. His armored hand is laid upon the gates Of life and death. What matter reasons why? In one dark hour of loving agony The Prince of Peace expired upon a tree. The Voices of God (1915) A THOUSAND voices speak of God. The gayest flower, the meanest clod, The highest hill, the deepest sea Proclaim his messages to me. I read his story in the Book. I hear it in the babbling brook; ’Tis written all across the sky, And in the silent majesty Of mountains, lifting from the land. A note of his undying word Is in the song of every bird, And but to-day my Saviour smiled From out the features of a child. The Wealth of Cheer (1915) What’s the use of weeping When the day goes wrong? Better to be keeping Pace with mirth and song. December is December, But May is always May, And shine and shade, remember, Will each come in its day. Gloom’s an old, old story, As ancient as the earth. And men with heads now hoary Have measured out its worth. They speak with one opinion That, not in gloom and mists, But in sunshine’s dominion The wealth of men consists. True Values (1916) One day an angel came and asked a king, Sated with power, with love of pomp and gold, Four things that God must dearly love, to bring And set them in his presence, so ’tis told. The king went forth and came again ere night, And set before the angel in that hour A jewelled crown, a scepter gleaming bright, A battle weapon, and a throne of power. The angel’s face grew shaded as he gazed Upon the king’s poor playthings gathered there. At last again his countenance was raised. He said: “These are the trappings pride may wear, But God’s great kingdom knows a richer worth: A truer value is its high concern.” “Go”, pled the king, “and from the mighty earth Bring me those things. I wait for thy return.” “Nay, come with me”, the angel said, “and I, Though I may lead a long and weary way, Will show you what is best beneath the sky.” These are the things he showed the king that day: A kindly life that served unselfishly, A flower that grew in sweetness undefiled, A fireside where were love and purity, The unspoiled spirit of a little child. Pictures (1918) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] The days are pictures, and they pass As comes and goes some mirage sheen, As fireflies in the tangled grass, Or shadows thrown upon the screen. Pictures they are of love and care; Pictures of toil and happiness; Of mighty men, of ladies fair-- Incarnate strength and gentleness; Pictures of battle and the night That touches woe with cooling breath; Of calm years following the fight, When blossoms deck the fields of death; Pictures of paths that wind, and meet Where Fate’s decrees have willed it so, Or where erstwhile companion feet Are led in separate ways to go.