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hing there! My heart,--oh, keep the doorway wide Here in your House of Care, For her who wanders there, God's Peace, with happy hair." The darkness and the battle passed: and rushing on wild pinions The hosts of Havoc shrieked their hate And fled to Hell's dominions,-- And, lo! I heard, out in the night, a knocking at the gate: And one who cried aloud to me:-- "The night and storm are gone! Oh, open wide the door and see Who waits here in the dawn!-- Peace, with God's splendor on Back to the sad world drawn!" _THE IRON CROSS_ They pass, with heavy eyes and hair, Before the Christ upon the Cross, The Nations, stricken with their loss, And lifting faces of despair. What is the prayer they pray to Him, Christ Jesus on the Iron Cross? The Christ, neglected, dark with moss, Whose hands are pierced, whose face is grim. Is it forgiveness for great sin They plead before the Iron Cross? Or for some gift of gold or dross? Or battle lost, that they would win? With eyes where hate and horror meet, They pass before the Iron Cross, The Cross, that ancient words emboss, Where hangs the Christ with nail-pierced feet. His hair is fallen on his face. His head hangs sidewise from the Cross-- The Crucified, who knows all loss, And had on Earth no resting place. "O world of men," he seems to say, "Behold me on your Iron Cross! To me why kneel and tell your loss? Why kneel to me and weep and pray? "Have I not taught you to forgive? And bade you from my Iron Cross Believe, and bear your grief and loss, That after death you too may live? "You have not followed at my call! You keep me on this Iron Cross, And pray me keep you from all loss, And save and comfort you withal.-- "You ask for love, and hate the more!-- You keep me on this Iron Cross!-- Restore to me my greater loss, The brotherhood of rich and poor." * * * * They pass, with weary eyes and hair, Before the Christ upon the Cross-- The Nations, wailing of their loss, And lifting faces of despair. _THE WANDERER_ Between the death of day and birth of night, By War's red light, I
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