PS 3511 .A62I5 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ODOOBTSbSHfl • *bv* * • o. * i 1 O (f O • / 1 +~ > a i •» O • A W <, w Sf » "^ "W&' k* 10 -* "."SH^* a- " 7 * ^ *W Ik 1311 110 J7&&9Z. iSiJTc&tP IN THE WILDERNESS BY JOHN T. FARE GRAFTON PUBLISHING COMPANY LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA t * 3 tV Copyright 1913 by JOHN T. FARE Los Angeles, California ©CLA333485 "In My Father's House are Many Mansions, if it were not so, I would have told you." —John 14; 2. To the Memory of the Mother who taught her lisping child to pray, this book is respectfully dedicated. IN THE WILDERNESS i. The Azure Fields were veil'd as with a dew; The Meadow-cups were lost to mortal view ; The silvery Lake lent not its wonted light, For Gloom had stretch'd her canopy — 'twas Night. ii. And Silence strange — as if the pulse of Time Had ceased, and Neverness was in its prime, — Did reign ; and reigning augur'd things to be; Things felt — by what? Ah! that's the mystery. 8 IN THE WILDERNESS III. But soon the calm was rent by clanging sound. And voice was heard to make the hills resound With cry for light unto the House of Brain — List, list ! The cry it doth repeat again. IV. "Within, within, kind friend, within, I say! A child along life's path hath lost its way. I search for Light, if thou His servant be, Direct my path. Who, where, and what is He?" IN THE WILDERNESS 9 V. "Direct my path !" Indeed a prattling tongue Hath struck full hard upon the mental gong, And broke the peace. Wake, wake and cease to nod; The child doth answer seek : Who — what is God? VI. Tis cried full oft that the All-Good— the Just, Made man in His own image from the dust ; And that the dust He chose from Mother Earth Did faulty prove, and we've been damn'd from birth. 10 IN THE WILDERNESS VII. Wake, wake and lean to thought, and err no more. Go think of all who have gone on be- fore, Whose lives had been one endless liv- ing fear Of Hell's torments for those they held most dear. VIII. Methinks no Dives cried with parching tongue For water, while the lambent flames among, More loud than they will who with fear imbue Their fellow-man with song of "Chosen few." IN THE WILDERNESS 11 IX. The "Chosen few"? The chosen are the whole, The images of Truth — of Life's true soul; And one in all, and all in one com- bine As radiating rays of Light Divine. x. Aye, rays; each one an offspring of the Just, A heavenly guest within a House of dust, Oh, care it well, it is the ever Thee ! Neglect it — and thine own deformer be. 12 IN THE WILDERNESS XI. I never gaze upon a cripple shorn Of power but what my breast with grief is torn. The Me therefore I'd care; for this I know, That death is birth — and we have far to go. XII. So let us gather in this Error's thought, And place it on the altar where 'twas wrought ; Then in the shadow of the Cross we'll stand And watch the temple fall — 'twas built on sand. IN THE WILDERNESS 13 XIII. The Barque we've piloted full many a year With helm lash'd hard aport with thong of fear; And in a circle it hath ever sail'd, But haven sought for we have never hail'd. XIV. With bearings lost, with Compass gone before, We tremble at the sound of breakers' roar. "See, see, the path ! Here footsteps mark the sea: The Saviour pass'd this way from Gal- ilee !" 14 IN THE WILDERNESS XV. The breakers of the There are far from Here; The Here is but the Where of Truth held dear. The There doth not exist to Mind Su- preme ; The Here is Now, the Now is ever green. XVI. For God is Love, and Love is Life Di- vine; He breathed the breath of Life, and life is thine; And being thine it is the inner Thee; And being mine it is the inner Me. IN THE WILDERNESS 15 XVII. That convoluted loom we call the brain, With which we daily weave our bolt of pain, Was made the shuttle of sweet Peace to> run ; The shuttle's thread of Grace — by God was spun. XVIII. But from a flax we've spun a faulty twine To feed the cop from which the comb to line, Until the old machine cries out, "Enough ! I've wrought too long with your sepul- chral stuff. 16 IN THE WILDERNESS XIX. "The warp of Error's thought hath strain'd the beam ; My shuttle it hath lost its heavenly gleam, And bears a nap from out a dusty store ; 'Twould see the smile of God. Enough — no more !" xx. His smile? Aye, smile. For dark indeed is day When light is low and Griefs old tent of gray Is pitch'd, and tears flow. But there is light: Peep through its rents — His stars with smiles are bright. IN THE WILDERNESS 17 XXL Methinks, the Barque — of which I yet have spake — Could float full well, and leave within its wake A troubled stream, upon the briny- tears That Sorrow's eyes have shed in bygone years. XXII. Upon my window's pane a tear I see ; It runs — now stops as if in fear; may- be It is in search of some familiar eye With whom it made its home in years gone by. 18 IN THE WILDERNESS XXIII. Perhaps 'twas in some saintly cloister- cell, Where devotee her matin beads did tell, That it sought freedom from a pious orb To join with Prayer that doth all grief absorb. XXIV. Aye, join with Prayer, that messenger of man That to the Throne of Grace, since time began, Hath borne our soul-thoughts ; tho'ts, oft frank'd with tears, That have return'd with Peace to still our fears. IN THE WILDERNESS 19 XXV. Our fears? The seed within a shadow's pod! Hath Clay ta'en on the potency of God And turned Artisan? The light turn on : The pod is broken and the seed is gone. XXVI. The light turn on? From where, and when, and how? The smile of God illumes the ever Now. Turn on the. light ! Effect go rule the cause ! The cause, and whence came it? Divine Mind knows. 20 IN THE WILDERNESS XXVII. The great Omnipotent, Omniscient He ! The Omnipresent One to Thee and Me, — But for the Dust that keeps our vision bound In darkness, true unto the Mother Ground, — XXVIII. He knows. And will He hold us free from guile Who help to make the Garment in a style To hide the True — that He Himself had wrought, And make shade substance, and the Sub- stance naught? IN the: wilderness 21 XXIX. That speck of dust that in the ray of light Is ever seen in borrow'd garments dight, We'd turn into a beam of woeful note; The heavenly ray we'd thrust inside the mote. xxx. That which is, is, and will be so for aye; And being so it cannot pass away. For all things made were made by the All Wise; All else is shadow, from which errors rise. 22 IN THE WILDERNESS XXXI. He knows : The Father of the father, He; The Lord of lords who made the perfect Thee. The perfect Me? The me that is, is what? A shell — a shadow by a Shade begot. XXXII. Aye, by a Shade that sprang from False- hood's thought ; Begot in darkness, and by Darkness wrought ; A semblance of a something that is naught, That from the land of Nothingness was brought. in the: wilderness 23 XXXIII. The shell? Oh, rend its portals open wide, As was the tomb from which the Cru- cified In all His glory came ; and see the Man, The perfect Man, as when the world be- gan. XXXIV. » I scarce e'er listen to the ocean's roar, Or see the waves in anger lash the shore y But what, methinks, I see Golgotha sway And rend itself — as on the Passion-day. 24 in the; wilderness XXXV. Or watch the heaving of its troubled breast. When fleck'd with foam from off its tear- ful crest, But what I see on lip the spumy stain, And hear the Magdalene's cry of pain. XXXVI. And when the spray doth hap to touch my lip, As from the savor'd nebule I do sip, Into my breast a kindly solace flows ; Perhaps it was His tear — who knows, who knows. IN THE WILDERNESS 25 XXXVII. His tear, and brought by sobbing winds from mound Where Error's ashes mark'd the whited ground That lay in shadow of that veil of woe The angels rent when Dust was in its throe. XXXVIII. Aye, in deep throe was Garment of the Man, A Garment wrought when world of Dust began ; By Adam to his offspring 'twas be- queath'd, And all have worn, and wearing it have grieved. 26 in the: wilderness XXXIX. 'Tis writ that Judas fell and bowels spew'd Upon the ground. Methinks the Saviour hued The very spot with crimson from the side That knew the spear ere He scarce yet had died. XL. And as the stream gush'd forth from out the Fount A quaking dread possess'd the skull-clad mount, And with its fearful bosom's heaving waves It waked the dead — who left their tainted graves. IN the: wilderness 27 XLI. Oh, better far had Judas ne'er been born Than till the Dust that gave to life a thorn, Whose cruel teeth were pointed as with steel, To rend the brow that bore the Heavenly Seal. XLII. Methinks I see the passion'd face of Love, With pleading look, turn to the heavens above, And cry, ere yet His eyes were lost to view, "Father, forgive! They know not what they do." 28 IN THE WILDERNESS XLIII. "Father, forgive!" With pity's soulful cry He pleaded for mankind with Life on high. That prayer divine let memory sacred keep, For with the plea on tongue He went to sleep. XLIV. Oh, glorious morn that saw the Saviour rise A victor o'er the tomb where Error lies ! And in His Majesty and Truth appear Unto the one redeem'd — by Him held dear. IN THE WILDERNESS 29 XLV. Aye, the redeem'd. The one that He had brought From out the labyrinth of Error's thought Into the open of the Heavenly Way, When cast aside as one unclean — by Clay. XLVI. As one unclean, a wanderer unknown To all save them who had with Error grown ; And in the pool of Deep Despair they dwell, A surging mass within a grieving hell. 30 IN THE WILDERNESS XLVII. Yet from its deep comes hand in wake of hand With clawing sweep, as if to reach the land ; Like wind-sped sails — when mill is hid from view, They pass from sight — perhaps to try anew. XLVIII. And if perchance a one should hap to hit Upon the Rock, and creep from out the pit, Some Levite of the Dust — in Virtue's name, Will cry, "Unclean ! Unclean ! Hence whence you came." IN TH£ WILDERNESS 31 XL1X. Unclean! Unclean the Clay of man's own kind? Unclean the tenement wherein the mind Doth dwell ? Then, like the Magdalene, go Unto the Fount — there cleansing waters flow. L. With Garment soil'd with frailty's earthy spot She sought the Life to free her from, the blot; And from her eyes repentant tears did stray To lave His feet— they wash'd her sins away. 32 IN THE WILDERNESS LI. Methinks I see her as with tear-clad face She humbly kneels imploring Him for grace ; Imploring with that silence of despair That's voiced by falling tears — each tear a prayer. LII. And now a sound like unto wafting wings I hear. A heavenly sound and one that brings The thought of angels speeding down to greet A soul redeem 'd — low at the Saviour's feet. IN THE WILDERNESS 33 LIII. No anger'd cry, from Him, no loathing look As from the ground the penitent He took ; But with a voice that brought to grief surcease He said, "Thy faith hath saved thee — go in peace." LIV. "Thy faith hath saved." Oh, would that child-like trust Were fully mine ! Then from this Shell of Dust Pd speed the webs that on its walls recline, And let the light of God in fullness shine. 34 IN THE WILDERNESS LV. Methought my house in order I had placed, And from its corners all the spots erased; Its windows they were bright, and many a ray Of sunshine to my chamber found its way. LVI. Its portals knew no dust — though some ajar, And kindly visitors from out the far — In thought, did often come and chat with me About the heavenly Now — the Then to be. IN THE WILDERNESS 35 LVII. But stranger came : I welcome gave to him, And held converse, when, lo, the light grew dim, For window's pane was veil'd with web of gray; A Spider! Ah, we all must watch and pray! LVIII. The garden of despair — Gethsemane, Did e'en the spinning Weaver know, for he A web did weave within its troubled shade That caught the passion'd tears of Him v/ho pray'd. 36 IN THE WILDERNESS LIX. And with the glistening tears the webby shroud Was 'lumed e'en as a lamp to mark the crowd That writhing surged in Error's dark abyss, From which — like serpent, crept the Judas-kiss. LX. Aye, crept like serpent under night's deep shade To kiss the cheek of one he had be- tray'd ; For darkness is the breath that Error breathes, And breathing it, it slays whom it de- ceives. IN THE WILDERNESS 37 LXI. How oft we mortals sit and strain the eye To see the work that in the lap doth lie. When worldly winter, with its weather- stain, Hath curtain'd out the light from win- dow's pane. LXII. Aye, strain to see the lines by Artist made, That we with wisdom's thread must mark to shade And fashion incorruption's Emblem Rose ; But, ah, alas ! — how oft the Cypress srrows. 38 IN THE WILDERNESS LXIII. Our trembling ringers, with their coats of stain Drawn by the temper'd needle's point, would gain, By labor — foreign to all rest, the bread To feed the that with which the worms are fed. LXIV. And in our haste and deep forgetful- ness, The sop for That within grows daily less, Until the larder proves an empty bowl With ne'er a crumb to feed the hunger'd Soul. IN THE WILDERNESS 39 LXV. Methinks I hear the man-wrought needle cry — "Why thrust your flimsy thread into my eye? You start with pain if I your finger wound ! Then why not I? Your logic is unsound. LXVI. " 'Tis said that you from common dust were made, From dust that Time amid the dust had laid, And that an artisan of standing high Did draw you forth. Well, cousin — so was I." 40 IN THE WILDERNESS LXVII. Each day we meet with kindred long unknown, As o'er this sand-dune by the winds we're blown ; We meet them here, and then we meet them there, In fact, like dust, we meet them every- where. LXVIII. And one and all seem foreign to the place, And wavering stand — as if they would retrace Their steps, then speed to left and then to right, Again to left, and then — alas! 'tis Night. IN the: wilderness 41 LXIX. Oh, blessed He who did in ages gone Reverse the stone that mark'd the path- way wrong! A path that's led us to this dusty plain, Far from the land of Light that we would gain. LXX. But mortal eyes inured to shade of night, That we would turn unto the heavenly light, Are, in their weakness, blinded by its ray, And we still need His voice to lead th % O > 4°* V* A °« < :«^- -o^ °