ail thee, its envy's dark
cloud broader than the earth, and deeper than the sea.
Spread over the spirits--their wicked melee.

They were a war of those that danced, in the trend of
sorrow's vulgar wail. As the serpent held them by the
hand, they knew that they were inshrouded in the evil
dark vale. But "lo, lo," cried the company, "you shall
not from us depart, for even the soul that shall fail."

Your door that stands closed, as a storm that darkens the
noon. O soul of envy atroped senility that bloom. O you
mind of the wicked, the close of the day has arriven so
soon. No deeds of mercy, no work was begun, for in the
heart of the wicked, the race was never run.

You saints as the eagle from the heavens that cry. You
mountains of love all glorious and white ascending so
high. O beautiful souls, Mosier's hosts, in all creation
stand by. Watching over the earth and its hosts, no mind
of the living can die.

O beautiful songs from the great throne that be. To the mind
of all living--yet heard only by thee. The hosts of the
heaven as the winds or the waves of the sea. Giving to
every soul who has understanding and a portion of light
for me.

Alleuher is not mocked by the race, or the evil within. Not
by those who have fallen and rage, you terrors of sin:
He keeps his city and its hosts of the earth and the
air. The hours of the evil shall approach, but none of
them shall come there, to that beautiful Zion, that city
so fair.

Alleuher holds the order of life. All things in their hosts
and zones. A power is with them, for they are his own. A
lion and an eagle and a bull and the image of a man
living in his glory, and bearing to and fro his great
throne. His spirit descending through the hosts, the
souls of all men is known. His salvation for his saints,
his glory in order is shown.

Through the gates above Zion the hosts pass by, ascending
and descending by the silvering portals. Upon that
beautiful road he has built through the sky. All the
earth is full of his glory as the wind, his power is
nigh. His saints walk in his strength. There is no
death, there is none of his hosts that ever die.

* * * * *

A Meditation--The Afterwhile

1. In the twilight I wandered by the old home place, and I saw it lie in
wreck; all was vanity and despair. I