Anchored To The Infinite
The builder who first bridged Niagara’s gorge,
Before he swung his cable, shore to shore,
Sent out across the gulf his venturing kite
Bearing a slender cord for unseen hands
To grasp upon the further cliff and draw
A greater cord, and then a greater yet;
Till at the last across the chasm swung
The cable then the mighty bridge in air!
So we may send our little timid thought
Across the void, out to God’s reaching hands—
Send out our love and faith to thread the deep—
Thought after thought until the little cord
Has greatened to a chain no chance can break,
And we are anchored to the Infinite!
A Prayer
Teach me, Father, how to go
Softly as the grasses grow;
Hush my soul to meet the shock
Of the wild world as a rock;
But my spirit, propt with power,
Make as simple as a flower.
Let the dry heart fill its cup,
Like a poppy looking up;
Let life lightly wear her crown
Like a poppy looking down,
When its heart is filled with dew,
And its life begins anew.
Teach me, Father, how to be
Kind and patient as a tree.
Joyfully the crickets croon
Under the shady oak at noon;
Beetle, on his mission bent,
Tarries in that cooling tent.
Let me, also, cheer a spot,
Hidden field or garden grot—
Place where passing souls can rest
On the way and be their best.
How Oswald Dined With God
Over Northumbria's lone, gray lands,
Over the frozen marl,
Went flying the fogs from the fens and sands,
And the wind with a wolfish snarl.
Frosty and stiff by the gray York wall
Stood the rusty grass and the yarrow:
Gone wings and songs to the southland, all-
Robin and starling and sparrow.
Weary with weaving the battle-woof,
Came the king and his thanes to the Hall:
Feast fires reddened the beams of the roof,
Torch flames waved from the wall.
Bright was the gold that the table bore,
Where platters and beakers shone:
Whining hounds on the sanded floor
Looked hungrily up for a bone.
Laughing, the king took his seat at the board,
With his gold-haired queen at his right:
War-men sitting around them roared
Like a crash of the shields in fight.
Loud rose laughter and lusty cheer,
And gleemen sang loud in their throats,
Telling of swords and the whistling spear,
Till their red beards shook with the notes.
Varlets were bringing the smoking boar,
Ladies were pouring the ale,
When the watchmen called from the great hall door:
'O King, on the wind is a wail.
'Feebly the host of the hungry poor
Lift hands at the gate with a cry:
Grizzled and gaunt they come over the moor,
Blasted by earth and sky.'
'Ho!' cried the king to the thanes, 'make speed-
Carry this food to the gates,
Off with the boar and the cask of mead-
Leave but a loaf on the plates.'
Still came a cry from the hollow night:
'King, this is one day's feast;
But days are coming with famine and blight;
Wolf winds howl from the east!'
Hot from the king's heart leaped a deed,
High as his iron crown:
(Noble souls have a deathless need
To stoop to the lowest down.)
'Thanes, I swear by Godde's Bride
This is a cursèd thing-
Hunger for the folk outside,
Gold inside for the king!'
Whirling his war-ax over his head,
He cleft each plate into four.
'Gather them up, O thanes,' he said,
'For the work-folk at the door.
'Give them this for the morrow's meat,
Then shall we feast in accord:
Our half of the loaf will then be sweet-
Sweet as the bread of the Lord!'
