I
' There is no God ' the foolish saith,
But none ' There is no sorrow, '
And nature oft the cry of faith
In bitter need will borrow:
Eyes, which the preacher could not school,
By wayside graves are raised,
And lips say ' God be pitiful, '
Who ne'er said ' God be praised. '
Be pitiful, O God !
II
The tempest stretches from the steep
The shadow of its coming,
The beasts grow tame and near us creep,
As help were in the human;
Yet, while the cloud-wheels roll and grind,
We spirits tremble under-
The hills have echoes, but we find
No answer for the thunder.
Be pitiful, O God !
III
The battle hurtles on the plains,
Earth feels new scythes upon her;
We reap our brothers for the wains,
And call the harvest - honor:
Draw face to face, front line to line,
One image all inherit, -
Then kill, curse on, by that same sign,
Clay - clay, and spirit - spirit.
Be pitiful, O God !
IV
The plague runs festering through the town,
And never a bell is tolling,
And corpses, jostled 'neath the moon,
Nod to the dead-cart's rolling:
The young child calleth for the cup,
The strong man brings it weeping,
The mother from her babe looks up,
And shrieks away its sleeping.
Be pitiful, O God !
V
The plague of gold strikes far and near,
And deep and strong it enters;
This purple chimar which we wear
Makes madder than the centaur's:
Our thoughts grow blank, our words grow strange,
We cheer the pale gold-diggers,
Each soul is worth so much on 'Change,
And marked, like sheep, with figures.
Be pitiful, O God !
VI
The curse of gold upon the land
The lack of bread enforces;
The rail-cars snort from strand to strand,
Like more of Death's White Horses:
The rich preach ' rights ' and ' future days, '
And hear no angel scoffing,
The poor die mute, with starving gaze
On corn-ships in the offing.
Be pitiful, O God !
VII
We meet together at the feast,
To private mirth betake us;
We stare down in the winecup, lest
Some vacant chair should shake us:
We name delight, and pledge it round-
' It shall be ours to-morrow ! '
God's seraphs, do your voices sound
As sad, in naming sorrow ?
Be pitiful, O God !
VIII
We sit together, with the skies,
The steadfast skies, above us,
We look into each other's eyes,
' And how long will you love us ? '
The eyes grow dim with prophecy,
The voices, low and breathless,-
' Till death us part ! ' -O words, to be
Our best, for love the deathless !
Be pitiful, O God !
IX
We tremble by the harmless bed
Of one loved and departed:
Our tears drop on the lips that said
Last night ' Be stronger-hearted ! '
O God - to clasp those fingers close,
And yet to feel so lonely !
To see a light upon such brows,
Which is the daylight only !
Be pitiful, O God !
X
The happy children come to us
And look up in our faces;
They ask us ' Was it thus, and thus,
When we were in their places ? '
We cannot speak; - we see anew
The hills we used to live in,
And feel our mother's smile press through
The kisses she is giving.
Be pitiful, O God !
XI
We pray together at the kirk
For mercy, mercy solely:
Hands weary with the evil work,
We lift them to the Holy.
The corpse is calm below our knee,
Its spirit, bright before Thee:
Between them, worse than either, we-
Without the rest or glory.
Be pitiful, O God !
XII
We leave the communing of men,
The murmur of the passions,
And live alone, to live again
With endless generations:
Are we so brave ? The sea and sky
In silence lift their mirrors,
And, glassed therein, our spirits high
Recoil from their own terrors.
Be pitiful, O God !
XIII
We sit on hills our childhood wist,
Woods, hamlets, streams, beholding
The sun strikes through the farthest mist
The city's spire to golden:
The city's golden spire it was,
When hope and health were strongest,
But now it is the churchyard grass
We look upon the longest.
Be pitiful, O God !
XIV
And soon all vision waxeth dull;
Men whisper ' He is dying;'
We cry no more ' Be pitiful ! '
We have no strength for crying:
No strength, no need. Then, soul of mine,
Look up and triumph rather !
Lo, in the depth of God's Divine,
The Son adjures the Father,
BE PITIFUL, O GOD !
