SOME souls there are

Who in their trial hours

Bathe in the very blood

Which flows around the heart of Life,

And know its joy—and know its agony.

Daring to follow impulse

That any God Himself would not resist.

Stand back!

You weaklings of the world

Boasting the name of men.

Preening yourselves

And judging with your

"God this------" and "God that------"

Dare not to come

Near these.

Stay with your narrow Gods

Who smugly sit

Within four chapel walls

On Sundays,

You in some stiff God's house

Who kneel and shiver

Towards a judgment day

Of your own setting.

But if a Destiny too kind

Bring you for one short second

Closer to wisdom;

To the breathing hills and spaces

Where my God lives

And makes His Throne in every leaf and flower

And whispers in each wind,

Then I will tell you this—

That my God is so great

I doubt if He will dare

To judge these souls.