Free of the body's dross.

Yet there be Saints uncanonised,
Unrecognised, unknown--
Here on the common roads of earth,
Oft times they walk alone;
Saints whom no soul hath ever praised,
Saints whom no Church doth own.

Men who against their souls' grim foes
Wage an unyielding fight;
Men of new creeds, and men of old,
Men of dark hue, and white,
Each pressing hard towards some far gleam
Of Thy celestial light.

Dwellers in places waste and lone,
Toilers upon the seas--
Mayhap they seldom pray high heaven.
Softly--on bended knees--
Yet in the roll-call of Thy Saints,
Dear Christ--remember these.




AT MIDNIGHT

Turn Thou the key upon our thoughts, dear Lord,
And let us sleep;