Then he came right-side up, pranced about on his load, And kicked it to pieces all over the road.
And what all this means, I really can't say. It may not mean much. But--again,--why, it may.
Unless our Souls win back to Thee, We shall have lost this fight. Yes, though we win on field and sea, Though mightier still our might may be, We still shall lose if we win not Thee. _Help us to climb, as in Thy sight, The Great High Way of Thy Delight_.
It is the world-old strife again,-- The fight 'twixt good and ill. Since first the curse broke out in Cain, Each age has worn the grim red chain, And ill fought good for sake of gain. _Help us, through all life's conflict, still To battle upwards to Thy Will_.
Are we to be like all the rest, Or climb we loftier height? Can we our wayward steps arrest?-- All life with nobler life invest?-- And so fulfil our Lord's behest? _Help us, through all the world's dark night, To struggle upwards to the Light_.
If not,--we too shall pass, as passed The older peoples in their time. God's pact is sure, His word stands fast,-- Those who His sovereignty outcast Outcast themselves shall be at last. _So,--lest we pass in this our prime, Lord, set us to the upward climb_!
Christ stands at the bar of the world to-day, As He stood in the days of old. And still, as then, we do betray Our Lord for greed of gold.
When our every deed and word and thought Should our fealty proclaim, Full oft we bring His name to nought And cover Him with shame.
Not alone did Judas his Master sell, Nor Peter his Lord deny, Each one who doth His love repel, Or at His guidance doth rebel, Doth the Lord Christ crucify.
Like the men of old, we vote His death, Lest His life should interfere With the things we have, or the things we crave, Or the things we hold more dear.
Christ stands at the bar of the world to-day, As He stood in the days of old. Let each man tax his soul and say,-- "Shall I again my Lord betray For my greed, or my goods, or my gold?"
"_Am I my brother's keeper_?" Yes, of a truth! Thine asking is thine answer. That self-condemning cry of Cain Has been the plea of every selfish soul since then, Which hath its brother slain. God's word is plain, And doth thy shrinking soul arraign.