‘But, Angel, when will I see God?’
‘After the final path is trod;
After you no more long, or crave,
To see, or hear, or own, or have
Aught beside—HIM. Then shall His face
Reveal itself to you in space.
And you shall find yourself made one
With that Great Sun, behind the sun.
Child, go thy way inside the gate,
Where many eager loved ones wait.
Death is but larger life begun.’
A VISION
My soul beheld a vision of the Master:
Methought He stood with grieved and questioning eyes,
Where Freedom drove its chariot to disaster
And toilers heard, unheeding, toilers’ cries.
Where man withheld God’s bounties from his neighbour,
And fertile fields were sterilised by greed;
Where Labour’s hand was lifted against labour,
And suffering serfs to despots turned when freed.
Majestic rose tall steeple after steeple;
Imperious bells called worshippers to prayer;
But as they passed, the faces of the people
Were marred by envy, anger and despair.
‘Christ the Redeemer of the world has risen,
Peace and good will,’ so rang the major strain;
But forth from sweat-shops, tenement and prison
Wailed minor protests, redolent with pain.
Methought about the Master, all unseeing,
Fought desperate hosts of striking clan with clan,
Their primal purpose, meant for labour’s freeing,
Sunk in vindictive hate of man for man.
Pretentious Wealth, in unearned robes of beauty,
Flung Want a pittance from her bulging purse,
While ill-paid Toil went on dull rounds of duty,
Hell in her heart, and on her lips a curse.
Then spoke the Christ (so wondrous was my vision)
(Deep, deep, His voice, with sorrow’s cadence fraught):
‘This world to-day would be a realm elysian
Had my disciples lived the love I taught.
Un-Christlike is the Christian creed men fashion
Who kneel to worship, and who rise to slay.
Profane pretenders of my holy Passion,
Ye nail Me newly to the cross each day.’
THE SECOND COMING
How will Christ come back again,
How will He be seen, and where,
Where His chosen way?
Will He come in dead of night,
Shining in His robes of light,
Or at dawn of day?
Will it be at Christmas time,
When the bells are all achime,
That He is re-born?
Or will He return and bring
Wide and wondrous wakening
On some Easter morn?