Thou canst choose the eastern Circle for thy part,
And within its sacred precincts thou shalt rest;
Thou shalt fold pale, slender hands upon thy breast,
Thou shalt fasten silent eyes upon thy heart.
If there steal within the languor of thine ark
The thunder of the waters of the earth,
The human, simple cries of pain and mirth,
The wails of little children in the dark,
Thou shalt contemplate thy Circle's radiant gleam,
Thou shalt gather self and God more closely still:
Let the Piteous and the Foolish moan at will,
So thou shelter in the sweetness of thy dream.

Thou canst bear a bloodstained Cross upon thy breast,
Thou shalt stand upon the common, human sod,
Thou shalt lift unswerving eyes unto thy God,
Thou shalt stretch torn, rugged hands to east and west
Thou shalt call to every throne and every cell--
Thou shalt gather all the answers of the Earth,
Thou shalt wring repose from weariness and dearth,
Thou shalt fathom the profundity of Hell--
But thy height shall touch the height of God above,
And thy breadth shall span the breadth of pole to pole,
And thy depth shall sound the depth of every soul,
And thy heart the deep Gethsemane of Love.


_THE HUNTERS_

"_The Devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about