Page:Near nature's heart; a volume of verse (IA nearnaturesheart00jack).pdf/115

 Beneficiaries afar, In their cosmic course. All these and more perpetually pass on, In holy and soft-toned harmonies, The life-filled fruitage of conquered Death.

Angels, beyond thy touch, Sing and dance, On their winged way, As ministers of Jehovah, Bringing to the so-called dead A chalice of new life.

And perfected souls and saints, Giving forth with joy their divinest ministrations, Are co-workers with the Highest, For the varied glory and ever increasing fullness Of eternal life.

Thou art a misnomer, O arch Deceiver! The last lie thou art, To be bravely faced, denied, disproved. The serene, The trustful, The Christ ones, Planting their feet Upon thy bosom, All shadowy and unreal, Will proclaim The paeans of life, Their holiest halleluiahs. Hence—my duty done— O darkest Death, Come thou for me.

Oft have I banished thee, Having come unawares; Thou didst flee, Thou cunning coward, To come again, Noiselessly by night; For somber Night is thy craven consort, As unreal as thyself, As non-existent— Driven easily away, By thy King's coming.

The foulest negation thou, Of all the ages, Yet universal.