s forth
to know just how. You saints shall answer with the light of life sealed
on every ransomed brow.

* * * * *

A Praise--A Charge to The Spirits

Blow! O blow on the rocks of time you silent winds divine. Glitter on
the mountain heights you rifting specters bright. Marching on you hosts
of the senless quite. Out in that day of every soul that's neither dark
or light.

Know you your place and name and who it is you be. It is the hand of a
higher one leads thee through eternity. A price was paid, its value
true, back in the ages one day; as onward through the shadows gleam the
vampires wing their way.

The tiny feet disturb not the dewdrops, as on the rose of Sharrion's
breast they lie. You lights upon the stillness, you unseen passers by.
How old are you thou tiny might that never has been still? Before the
mountains were brought forth or the sands were in the hills.

With you let not sorrow, grief or pain, as in your house of clay which
you oft regain. It is not yours to demand to give forth or to say. But
it is of him who paid the price back in an ancient day. By him who
created us of nature, to walk in nature's way. Haste you spirits of
silence and tell me what you know; you lights against the walls like
shadows of the snow.

I am not with thee; you make me hate you in my dreams. Except thy feet
have been dipped beneath the fountain streams; or have fallen with
Lebannon's cedar from the heights of boze. And grown up again in the
springtime with the seed of Sharrion's rose. And been judged in the
dewdrops by the morning star. And been tested by Judah's lion with all
his might and power.

Come then, you messengers of love, and gladness, and speak when I am not
awar. In the silence of the night time when turmoils and strife are
o'er. Pass over the starry valleys where maidens slumber beneath the
shades of time. They shall be mothers without sin sublime. Forget not
the pine upon the mountain or the vine that droops from the wall. Tender
as the orchard bloom that lingers till the day of fall.

Why make you sin of the things that are sacred? Did Mosier tell you so?
To change the heart of nature for things that would not grow. It was
Satan who stood about the city with his host of fiends, and accused the
highest saints of Jehovah of the vilest sins. Cease not then in your
trend of events, you travellers weep no more. For the workman of
Nazareth he has bridged the river o'er.