 | Verse-tales, Lyrics and Translations |  |
2
FATHER DAMIEN OF MOLOKAI.
And so they have told you, lad, that only the folk of old
Were cast by the Maker of men in the grand heroic mould:
That all we care for now is to grope and moil to get
The treasure the rust consumes and the secret moth doth fret:
That now we look to the ground, as then they looked to the sky—
By all that is holy and true, it's a lie, boy, just a lie.
Full many a tongue can tell how surely now as then
There is noble witness borne to the life of God in men:
There are with us not a few of the good old hero breed,
So true and strong and staunch for the doing of many a deed
Of glory, and honour, and might, and beauty—Oh, deeds the which
Make this old world so great and the souls of men so rich,
No less than the deeds of yore we speak of through all the years,
Which stir us with passionate longing, and move us to holiest tears.
Were cast by the Maker of men in the grand heroic mould:
That all we care for now is to grope and moil to get
The treasure the rust consumes and the secret moth doth fret:
That now we look to the ground, as then they looked to the sky—
By all that is holy and true, it's a lie, boy, just a lie.
Full many a tongue can tell how surely now as then
There is noble witness borne to the life of God in men:
There are with us not a few of the good old hero breed,
So true and strong and staunch for the doing of many a deed
Of glory, and honour, and might, and beauty—Oh, deeds the which
Make this old world so great and the souls of men so rich,
No less than the deeds of yore we speak of through all the years,
Which stir us with passionate longing, and move us to holiest tears.
In the life we are set to live, three things, lad, have their share;
To man it is given of God to see, and to do, and to bear.
There be some with the keener eye, the sharper sense to bring
Anear to that secret of God which lieth in everything;
There be some with the swifter foot, the shoulder of mightier might,
The heart of the even beat alike in the race or the fight:
There be some of whom, low-voiced, we speak with reverence due,
For theirs is a harder thing than even to see or to do.
To man it is given of God to see, and to do, and to bear.
There be some with the keener eye, the sharper sense to bring
Anear to that secret of God which lieth in everything;
3
The heart of the even beat alike in the race or the fight:
There be some of whom, low-voiced, we speak with reverence due,
For theirs is a harder thing than even to see or to do.
There is various work in life, lad, and all that work is good;
To see, and to do, and to bear; and well be it understood
The one same spirit is there, if many a form there be;
For the Master-Worker He gives to one of us, verily,
A little thing—a rose in a garden to water—and one
Must carry the wood and the fire to offer an only son.
To see, and to do, and to bear; and well be it understood
The one same spirit is there, if many a form there be;
For the Master-Worker He gives to one of us, verily,
A little thing—a rose in a garden to water—and one
Must carry the wood and the fire to offer an only son.
The joyful praise of a heart that is warm in purple fair;
“Thy will be done” from a heart that is lying bruised and bare;
The shout on the mountain's top of the climber nought can tire,
And the sob at the mountain's foot of the weakling's vain desire.
“Thy will be done” from a heart that is lying bruised and bare;
The shout on the mountain's top of the climber nought can tire,
And the sob at the mountain's foot of the weakling's vain desire.
What is the gallantest deed? You answer, The facing of Death.
And so you are surely right; you know how the Christ He saith,
No love is greater than this, that a man lay down his life—
But how shall he lay it down? In the heart of the hottest strife,
As he grapples with desperate strain in the deadly battle-breach,
Where foeman with foeman is matched, strong-sinewed each and each?
Oh sweet and comely it is for the fatherland to die!
But sweeter and comelier yet—I will tell you by-and-by.
That a man lay down his life, no greater love than this!
Just think of the joy of life, its glory, and might, and bliss;
Delight of the perfect limb, delight of the busy brain—
And life is dear full oft, though girt with a girdle of pain;
One hopes, hopes on to the end, or is half content at least
To eat of the falling crumbs, while others may share the feast.
And so you are surely right; you know how the Christ He saith,
No love is greater than this, that a man lay down his life—
But how shall he lay it down? In the heart of the hottest strife,
As he grapples with desperate strain in the deadly battle-breach,
Where foeman with foeman is matched, strong-sinewed each and each?
Oh sweet and comely it is for the fatherland to die!
But sweeter and comelier yet—I will tell you by-and-by.
4
Just think of the joy of life, its glory, and might, and bliss;
Delight of the perfect limb, delight of the busy brain—
And life is dear full oft, though girt with a girdle of pain;
One hopes, hopes on to the end, or is half content at least
To eat of the falling crumbs, while others may share the feast.
To die on the burning ship that another may gain the boat;
To sink in the bridgeless deep that a raft may safely float;
To prop the falling arch, if but for a minute's space;
To look on the fever-fiend, and even smile in his face;
Such things are common enough, and yet, men dare to say
The olden spirit has gone, and the glory has past away;
We are selfish, hard, and cold! Oh, many, seeming such,
Have sprung to the stature of men when they only felt the touch,
The needed touch on the quick that goaded and guided too;
And they waited not to think, but they sprang to dare and do.
To sink in the bridgeless deep that a raft may safely float;
To prop the falling arch, if but for a minute's space;
To look on the fever-fiend, and even smile in his face;
Such things are common enough, and yet, men dare to say
The olden spirit has gone, and the glory has past away;
We are selfish, hard, and cold! Oh, many, seeming such,
Have sprung to the stature of men when they only felt the touch,
The needed touch on the quick that goaded and guided too;
And they waited not to think, but they sprang to dare and do.
But I know not when we felt the hearts of us deeplier thrilled,
I know not when our souls with an awfuller joy were filled,
Than when we heard of his deed who, years back, went his way
Down into the Valley of Death, and walks in its shade to-day.
I know not when our souls with an awfuller joy were filled,
Than when we heard of his deed who, years back, went his way
Down into the Valley of Death, and walks in its shade to-day.
A man in the strength of his life, the strength of body and brain,
With the hope of the eager-souled of much to do and gain,
With learning and culture and grace to light the way he trod,
Just turned his back upon all, for the lepers' drear abode.
With the hope of the eager-souled of much to do and gain,
With learning and culture and grace to light the way he trod,
Just turned his back upon all, for the lepers' drear abode.
5
Under a far-off sky, where endless summer doth smile,
Girt with a girdle of hills there lieth a calm blue isle;
And only to see it from far you would think how happy and fair
The days of the women and men who dwell with the sunshine there:
But, all apart and alone, girt in by the sea and the chain
Of huge, precipitous hills, that isle hath a strange wide plain,
And the exiled are all it knows, and over the ocean foam
No vessel ever will ride to carry those exiles home.
Girt with a girdle of hills there lieth a calm blue isle;
And only to see it from far you would think how happy and fair
The days of the women and men who dwell with the sunshine there:
But, all apart and alone, girt in by the sea and the chain
Of huge, precipitous hills, that isle hath a strange wide plain,
And the exiled are all it knows, and over the ocean foam
No vessel ever will ride to carry those exiles home.
For never a home have they, poor smitten and stricken lives,
These parentless children, these childless parents, these husband-less wives,
These wifeless husbands, these lads and girls whose life's young day
Shall know no joy of the sun, but pass under clouds away.
These parentless children, these childless parents, these husband-less wives,
These wifeless husbands, these lads and girls whose life's young day
Shall know no joy of the sun, but pass under clouds away.
Stricken and smitten indeed, by the deadliest curse and ban
That ever has come to torture the wretched body of man;
The dread, mysterious thing, that creepeth remorseless on,
To bring such vile decay to skin and flesh and bone.
That ever has come to torture the wretched body of man;
The dread, mysterious thing, that creepeth remorseless on,
To bring such vile decay to skin and flesh and bone.
They tell of the lepers cleansed by the Christ-touch long ago;
But not for such as these the healing hand to know;
Only to linger on, till one fail to recognise
That a human soul can dwell in such a horrible guise.
But not for such as these the healing hand to know;
Only to linger on, till one fail to recognise
That a human soul can dwell in such a horrible guise.
Think, lad, of living one's life, one's life, with such as these;
To leave all bright and fair for horror and foul disease,
For the sick that none can cure, the sore that none can aid—
Do you think the stoutest heart could face it undismayed?
To leave all bright and fair for horror and foul disease,
For the sick that none can cure, the sore that none can aid—
Do you think the stoutest heart could face it undismayed?
6
And more—to know full well its like will come to pass,
One's own clean body and sound shall be this hideous mass,
This loathsome, shuddering heap one fain would put away
In the breast of the kindly earth, to hide from the eye of day.
One's own clean body and sound shall be this hideous mass,
This loathsome, shuddering heap one fain would put away
In the breast of the kindly earth, to hide from the eye of day.
He heard the call nor stayed—“My Master, here am I!”
His work was there, and he went to do his work and die:
Hope to the hopeless he bore, and the comfort that comforteth
To the hearts of the men who lay in the vale of the shade of death.
His work was there, and he went to do his work and die:
Hope to the hopeless he bore, and the comfort that comforteth
To the hearts of the men who lay in the vale of the shade of death.
He has loved and worked for the lepers, it's now the fourteenth year,
And the stroke has fallen at last, and the end it draweth near:
He will love and work to the end as surely the martyrs can,
Who follow the bleeding feet of the martyr Son of Man,
With souls whose ardour of love doth flame and burn and glow,
As red as the ruby's heart, and as pure as the Alpine snow.
And the stroke has fallen at last, and the end it draweth near:
He will love and work to the end as surely the martyrs can,
Who follow the bleeding feet of the martyr Son of Man,
With souls whose ardour of love doth flame and burn and glow,
As red as the ruby's heart, and as pure as the Alpine snow.
How shall we love thee and bless, with love and blessings meet?
Suffer us, brother and saint, to kneel in kissing thy feet;
The feet that shall fathom and scale, or ever their rest be won,
The dread abysses of Love, and its heights which know the sun.
Suffer us, brother and saint, to kneel in kissing thy feet;
The feet that shall fathom and scale, or ever their rest be won,
The dread abysses of Love, and its heights which know the sun.
| Verse-tales, Lyrics and Translations | |