Giant Hours with Poet Preachers

by William L. Stidger

CHRIST AND THE CITY SOUL

I think that no Christian poet has so caught the soul of the real city.
One phrase that links Christ with the city is the old-fashioned yet
ever thrilling phrase, "The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the
Holy Spirit."

An electrical sign suggests prayer to him. It is a unique thought in "A Rhyme About An Electrical Advertising Sign," the lines of which startle one almost with their newness:

"Some day this old Broadway shall climb to the skies,
As a ribbon of cloud on a soul-wind shall rise.
And we shall be lifted rejoicing by night,
Till we join with the planets who choir their delight.
The signs in the street and the signs in the skies
Shall make a new Zodiac guiding the wise,
And Broadway make one, with that marvelous stair
That is climbed by the rainbow-clad spirits of prayer."

The Congo.

He looks straight up above the signs to heaven. But he does not forget to look down also, where the people are, the folks that walk and live and crawl under the electric signs. In "Galahad, Knight Who Perished" (a poem dedicated to all crusaders against the international and interstate traffic in young girls), this phrase rings and rings its way into Christian consciousness:

"Galahad—knight who perished—awaken again,
Teach us to fight for immaculate ways among men."

The Congo.

And again and again one is rudely awakened from his ease by such lines as "The leaden-eyed" children of the city which he pictures:

"Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly;
Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap;
Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve;
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep."

The Congo.

Who has not seen factory windows in village, town, and city, and who has not known that "Factory windows are always broken"? How this smacks of pall, and smoke, and dirt, and grind, and hurt and little weak children, slaves of industry! Thank God, Vachel Lindsay, that the Christian Church has found an ally in you; and poet and preacher together—for they are both akin—pray God we may soon abolish forever child slavery. Yes, no wonder "Factory windows are always broken." The children break them because they hate a prison.

The "Coal Heaver," "The Scissors Grinder," "The Mendicant," "The
Tramp," all so smacking of the city, have their interpretation.

I wish in these pages might be quoted all of "The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy Spirit," for it daringly, beautifully, and strongly carries into the new philosophy which Mr. Lindsay is introducing the thought that every village, every town, every city has a community soul that must be saved, through Christian influence. But the ring of it and the swing of it will suggest itself in a few verses:

"Censers are swinging
Over the town;
Censers are swinging,
Look overhead!
Censers are swinging,
Heaven comes down.
City, dead city,
Awake from the dead!

* * * * *

"Soldiers of Christ
For battle grow keen.
Heaven-sent winds
Haunt alley and lane.
Singing of life
In town-meadows green
After the toil
And battle and pain.

* * * * *

"Builders, toil on,
Make all complete.
Make Springfield wonderful.
Make her renown
Worthy this day,
Till at God's feet,
Tranced, saved forever,
Waits the white town."

The Congo.

Ah, if we could but catch this vision of not only the individuals but the city itself receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, we would have therein a new and a tremendous force for good.

One might quote from "The Drunkards in the Street":

"Within their gutters, drunkards dream of Hell.
I say my prayers by my white bed to-night,
With the arms of God about me, with the angels singing, singing
Until the grayness of my soul grows white."

General William Booth.

He goes to the bottom of the social evil, down to its economic causes, and blames the state for "The Trap," and this striking couplet rings in one's heart long after the book is laid down:

"In liberty's name we cry
For these women about to die!"

General William Booth.

The poet who speaks in "The City That Will Not Repent" is only feeling over again, "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,… how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!" The "Old Horse in the City," "To Reformers in Despair," "The Gamblers"—it is all there: the heartaches, the struggle for existence, the fallen woman, the outcast man, the sound of drums, the tambourines, the singing of the mission halls. You find it all, especially in "General William Booth Enters Into Heaven." Here is life—the very life of life in the city.