Thou art God’s instrument of fate, Obedient, mighty, soulless, blind, No demon to propitiate, No deity in love enshrined. Let him who turns from God away To Bel or Moloch bend the knee; Defile his soul to wood or clay, Or thrill with Voodoo’s ecstasy. Seek any fetich undivine, Be any superstition’s thrall, From Heaven or Hell will come a sign; But thou alone art deaf to all. THREE DOVES BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE Seaward, at morn, my doves flew free; At eve they circled back to me. The first was Faith; the second, Hope; The third, the whitest, Charity. Above the plunging surges play Dream-like they hovered, day by day. At last they turned, and bore to me Green signs of peace thro’ nightfall gray, No shore forlorn, no loveliest land Their gentle eye had left unscanned, ’Mid hues of twilight-heliotrope Or daybreak fires by heaven-breath fanned Quick visions of celestial grace,-- Hither they waft, from earth’s broad space, Kind thoughts for all humanity, They shine with radiance from God’s face. Ah, since my heart they choose for home, Why loose them,--forth again to roam? Yet look; they rise with loftier scope They wheel in flight toward Heaven’s pure dome. Fly, messengers that find no rest Save in such toil as makes man blest! Your home is God’s immensity; We hold you but at His behest. THE WAY OF THE WORLD BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE The hands of the King are soft and fair They never knew labor’s strain The hands of the Robber redly wear The bloody brand of Cain. But the hands of the Man are hard and scarred With the scars of toil and pain. The slaves of Pilate have washed his hands As white as a kings might be. Barrabas with wrists unfettered stands For the world has made him free. But Thy palms toil-worn by nails are torn, O Christ, on Calvary. AVE MARIA BY JOHN JEROME ROONEY Lady, thy soldier I would be, This day I choose thy shield, And go, thrice-armored for the fight, Forth to the world’s wide field. There I shall meet the dark allies, The Flesh, the Fiend, the World, And fiercely shall their darts of fire Upon my heart be hurled. But I will raise my buckler strong Betwixt me and the foe, And, with the spirit’s flaming sword, Shall give them blow for blow. Lady, thy sailor I would be, This day I sign my name To sail the high seas of the earth For glory of thy fame. The tempest may besiege my bark, The pirate lie in wait: The perils of the monstrous deep May tempt o’erwhelming fate: Yet, wheresoe’er my ship may steer Upon the waters wide, Thy name shall be my compass sure, Thy star my midnight guide.