ngue or pen;
And teach us, Emperor, to endure,
To think like Romans and like men.

THE INNER PASSION

There is a Master in my heart
To whom, though oft against my will,
I bring the songs I sing apart
And strive to think that they fulfil
His silent law, within my heart.

But He is blind to my desires,
And deaf to all that I would plead:
He tests my truth at purer fires
And shames my purple with His need.
He claims my deeds, not my desires.

And often when my comrades praise,
I sadden, for He turns from me!
But, sometimes, when they blame, I raise
Mine eyes to His, and in them see
A tenderness too deep for praise.

He is not to be bought with gold,
Or lured by thornless crowns of fame;
But when some rebel thought hath sold
Him to dishonour and to shame,
And my heart's Pilate cries, "Behold,"

"Behold the Man," I know Him then;
And all those wild thronged clamours die
In my heart's judgment hall again,
Or if it ring with "Crucify!"
Some few are faithful even then.

Some few sad thoughts,--one bears His cross;
To that dark Calvary of my pride;
One stands far off and mourns His loss,
And one poor thief on either side
Hangs on his own unworthy cross.

And one--O, truth in ancient guise!--
Rails, and one bids him cease alway,
And the God turns His hungering eyes
On that poor thought with, "Thou, this day,
Shalt sing, shalt sing, in Paradise."

A COUNTRY LANE IN HEAVEN

The exceeding weight of glory bowed
My head, in that pure clime:
I found a road that ran through cloud
Along the coasts of Time....

Out of that mist of years there came
A cross-barred gate of wood.
I clutched, I kissed the unheavenly frame
So hard, it trickled blood.

My head upon the iron lay.
I slobbered blood and foam.
Yea, like a dog, I knew the way,
A hundred yards from home.

_Iron and blood and wood! They knew
The secret of that cry
When the Eternal Passion drew
Their Maker through--to die._

I knew each little hawthorn-cloud
Along my misty lane,
Then my heart burst. She sobbed aloud,
Between my arms again.

TO THE DESTROYERS

Yes. You have shattered many an ancient wrong,
And we were with you, heart and mind and soul,
But there are fools who cast away control
In life and thought and art; because the Strong--
We