TO CHOOSE

Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,
  And within its sacred precincts thou shalt rest;
  Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands upon thy breast,
Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart. 
If there steal within the languor of thine ark
  The thunder of the waters of the earth,
  The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,
The wails of little children in the dark,
Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle’s radiant gleam,
  Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still: 
  Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,
So thou shelter in the sweetness of thy dream.

Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
  Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,
  Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,
Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west
Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell—­
  Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,
  Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,
Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell—­
But thy height shall touch the height of God above,
  And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,
  And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,
And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.

THE HUNTERS

“The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may detour”

The Lion, he prowleth far and near,
  Nor swerves for pain or rue;
He heeded nought of sloth nor fear,
  He prowleth—­prowleth through
The silent glade and the weary street,
  In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
And a little Lamb with aching Feet—­
  He prowleth too.

The Lion croucheth alert, apart—­
  With patience doth he woo;
He waiteth long by the shuttered heart,
  And the Lamb—­He waiteth too. 
Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,
  Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,
The Lion followeth the fainting will—­
  And the Lamb—­He followeth too.

From the thickets dim of the hidden way
  Where the debts of Hell accrue,
The Lion leapeth upon his prey: 
  But the Lamb—­He leapeth too. 
Ah! loose the leash of the sins that damn,
  Mark Devil and God as goals,
In the panting love of a famished Lamb,
  Gone mad with the need of souls.

The Lion, he strayeth near and far;
  What heights hath he left untrod? 
He crawleth nigh to the purest star,
  On the trail of the saints of God. 
And throughout the darkness of things unclean,
  In the depths where the sin-ghouls brood,
There prowleth ever with yearning mien—­
  A lamb as white as Blood!

* * * * *

HUGH AUSTIN

THE ASTRONOMERS PRAYER

Night.  O Thou God! who rulest Heaven and earth,
  The terraced atmospheres, the bounded seas;
Who knowest equally both death and birth,
  Frail human men, strong divine mysteries,
Whose unencumbered thought sways all the spheres,
  In all their turning, snake-like, perfect ways;
Now that the season of my labour nears,
  Grant me an insight to Thy larger days!