Part 3 (2/2)

We sleep away the sunlit hours of life (Unsatisfied, sad life), We wake in shadow and we rise in gloom.

False as a wanton's artificial bloom Is that made light we labour in till dawn (The lonely, laggard dawn).

Like visions half remembered in a dream (A strange and broken dream) Our children's faces, seen but while they sleep, Within our hearts these weary hours we keep.

We are the toilers in the realm of night (Long, long the hours of night).

CHORUS

We are hope and faith and sorrow, We are peace and pain and pa.s.sion, We are ardent lovers kissing, We are happy mothers crooning, We are rosy children dreaming, We are honest labour sleeping, We are wholesome pleasure laughing, We are wakeful riches feasting, We are lifted spirits praying, We the voices of the city.

Out of the medley rose these broken strains, In changing time and ever-changing keys.

IF CHRIST CAME QUESTIONING

If Christ came questioning His world to-day, (If Christ came questioning,) 'What hast thou done to glorify thy G.o.d, Since last My feet this lower earth plane trod?'

How could I answer Him; and in what way One evidence of my allegiance bring; If Christ came questioning.

If Christ came questioning, to me alone, (If Christ came questioning,) I could not point to any church or shrine And say, 'I helped build up this house of Thine; Behold the altar, and the corner stone'; I could not show one proof of such a thing; If Christ came questioning.

If Christ came questioning, on His demand, (If Christ came questioning,) No pagan soul converted to His creed Could I proclaim; or say, that word or deed Of mine, had spread the faith in any land; Or sent it forth, to fly on stronger wing; If Christ came questioning.

If Christ came questioning the soul of me, (If Christ came questioning,) I could but answer, 'Lord, my little part Has been to beat the metal of my heart, Into the shape I thought most fit for Thee; And at Thy feet, to cast the offering; Shouldst Thou come questioning.

'From out the earth-fed furnaces of desire, (Ere Thou cam'st questioning,) This formless and unfinished gift I brought, And on life's anvil flung it down, white hot: A glowing thing, of selfishness and fire, With blow on blow, I made the anvil ring; (Ere Thou cam'st questioning).

'The hammer, Self-Control, beat hard on it; (Ere Thou cam'st questioning,) And with each blow, rose fiery sparks of pain; I bear their scars, on body, soul, and brain.

Long, long I toiled; and yet, dear Lord, unfit, And all unworthy, is the heart I bring, To meet Thy questioning.'

ENGLAND, AWAKE!

A beautiful great lady, past her prime, Behold her dreaming in her easy chair; Gray robed, and veiled; in laces old and rare, Her smiling eyes see but the vanished time, Of splendid prowess, and of deeds sublime.

Self satisfied she sits, all unaware That peace has flown before encroaching care, And through her halls stalks hunger, linked with crime.

England, awake! from dreams of what has been, Look on what IS, and put the past away.

Speak to your sons, until they understand.

England, awake! for dreaming now is sin; In all your ancient wisdom, rise to-day, And save the glory of your menaced land.

BE NOT ATTACHED

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