The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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November 3
OUR NATIVE HEAVEN |
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 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
350
November 3 OUR NATIVE HEAVEN
“Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them.”—Exod. xv. 17.
Nothing can a moment stay, should it seem to linger long
With the trifles by the way, and the pleasure links be strong;
All are lowly working out, richly, really,
Destiny by battle shout
Or the scarlet lips that pout so ideally;
Each the purpose of its plan, since in time it first began,
Perfectly, divinely wrought
Out of archetypal Thought.
Nothing can be held or hasted, in the ordinance of things
Gathered to their primal Fount;
Nothing can be lost or wasted, in the due developings,
Towards the final full Account.
With the trifles by the way, and the pleasure links be strong;
All are lowly working out, richly, really,
Destiny by battle shout
Or the scarlet lips that pout so ideally;
Each the purpose of its plan, since in time it first began,
Perfectly, divinely wrought
Out of archetypal Thought.
Nothing can be held or hasted, in the ordinance of things
Gathered to their primal Fount;
Nothing can be lost or wasted, in the due developings,
Towards the final full Account.
We are marching Home to God, who is drawing us with Love,
Though He chastens by the rod, and His flames are fierce above;
Whether we do live or die, sad or willing,
We are fettered to His tie
And our beings in it lie, spent or spilling.
Ah, the glory of this fate is beyond our fear and hate,
Moulding us by ill or good
To a broader Brotherhood.
So are we for ever marching, human hope and sordid shape
And the very stock and stone,
Through the Mercy overarching (which no devil can escape)
Till we rest in Him alone.
Though He chastens by the rod, and His flames are fierce above;
Whether we do live or die, sad or willing,
We are fettered to His tie
And our beings in it lie, spent or spilling.
Ah, the glory of this fate is beyond our fear and hate,
Moulding us by ill or good
To a broader Brotherhood.
351
And the very stock and stone,
Through the Mercy overarching (which no devil can escape)
Till we rest in Him alone.
| The Prisoner of Love | |