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II
VERSE
THE TORCHBE'ARER
Dedicated to the Bahá’í pioneers all over the world
LORNA TASKER
I walked in the wet night,
Alone in a strange country.
I was not sure the earth was friendly
Beneath my feet,
But I was aware of a light
That shone in me,
Even as a torch held high
In the hands of a seeker
Of lost faces.
It lighted the glistening leaves
Of pepper trees in the rain,
11 fell on the feathery darkness
Of jackaranda trees
In walled gardens,
It caught the majesty of a date palm,
Black and breathless under sombre skies.
And suddenly I knew that there are friends,
Even for those who walk alone
Through the wet night in a strange country;
There are friends
Even where the earth is sullen,
If only one holds the torch aloft
With sturdy hand.
ON A BLIND INDIAN PIPING
DAVIE) Bmcxm
In the Plaza San Martin there often sits, at the base of the statue, a blind Indian playing his quena.
As I strolled with you one evening To us, on the scented breeze,
Came the sound of plaintive piping Floating through the flowering trees.
“Let us linger,” you said softly; “Let us find this piper, who
Traps within his pipe so deftly
So much old and so much new.”
“Seems,” you said, as through the gloaming
Pressed we onward in our search,
“That must be an Indian piping
Sitting on his stony perch.”
’Twas an Indian, blind and dirty, Piping forth his sad lament. Asking us, now listening raptly, “Tarry, Sefiors, 'til I am spent.”
So we waited, and ’twas worth it, For there poured forth from his reed Notes, the like of Which this orbit Does most sorely stand in need.
“ ’Tis a lesson,” you said humbly, ’Tis a moral to accrue,
He has taught us very subtly, All is old, yet all is new.”
FOUNDATION STONE
ROBERTA CHRISTIAN
There is a stone in our land Within a temple fair;
A holy hand, mysterious, Blest it and placed it there.
On Winged feet we hastenAll love, all hate, forsworn, Bare-hearted, single-spirited, Of fears and sorrows shorn.
The Gate is wide in welcome, Our spirits seek repose,
In solitude we contemplate The Beauty of the Rose.
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0 rock of faith, 0 symbol! Our souls, alive, aware, Kneel low before thy majesty And find God there.
“ABANDON NOT THE EVERLASTING BEAUTY FOR A CHARM THAT FADETH.”
——BAHA’U’LL£H
LORNA TASKm
Because you are fearless
You can pass, and leave
The flower swinging in the wind Below the garden path,
But I must breathless wait Lest one frail petal fall
Or a leaf drop
Or this sweet sunlight
Never shine again.
So you will find the deathless Flower, And never grieve to see
These petals drifting on the wind
With fading hours,
And never need to know
How the pale evening
Clings to the quivering leaves.
HEAVEN AND EARTH HAVE SWORN
SILVIA Maacous Like the sorrowful sighing of horns, Lo, the slain unceasingly weep; Like the mournffil moaning of doves, Their weeping is solemn and deep; Though hid from the land of the living, They slumber not, never, not sleep!
They are yoked to our greeds and transgressions
By a new and portentous decree:
Know ye, heaven and earth have sworn
War’s dead shall not rest or be free
Till the living have utterly learned:
All men are the leaves of One Tree!
STARS BEFORE THE DAWN
NELL GRIFFITH WILSON
These are the glowing stars before the dawn, These are the pledges of a brighter time,
THE Bahá’í
WORLD
The gleam, before hope wavers and is gone, That earth be constant in its upward climb. These are the stars . every race Shall meet in council for the common good, That science with new wonders keeps apace And lights the way to greater brotherhood.
. . that men of
Now justice deals with crime against mankind; The brawn and grasping ego of the fool No longer struts in glory, but must find A higher dream where heart and brain shall rule, And cries for peace swell in a rising tide, Silvered by prayer, which cannot be denied.
DAWN IN THE EAST
GERTRUDE W. ROBINSON
The dawn is in the east, my friend. The night
Has been so dark the stars could not be seen,
And you have long since ceased to look for light
On far horizons where faith dwells
serene. Yet quietly day breaks. Faint lines of rose Illumine clouds, low-hanging, dense and black.
Above a storm-drenched earth the wind still blows;
Yet to the heart expectancy comes back.
I know that pain and hatred stalk the world;
Men cry out “Peace!” and still there is no peace.
Fear rules the heart. Great wings are still unfurled
To shield from war that can not bring surcease
From pain. Yet nights of turbulence must end.
Law reigns. The dawn is in the east. my friend.
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SONG FOR A NEW DAY
SILVIA MARGOLIS
0, ask not whence this joy, So resonant and clear It drowns the voice of anguish And floods my heart with cheer;
Nor whence that temperate love That ebbless flows in me, Bearing me lightly, lightly, As foam is borne by the sea.
0, wonder not at all My bubbling ecstasy That like a fount of peace Flows, immersing me;
I only know ‘tis Dawn
And a New Day comes apace With Love upon its Wings
And Joy upon its Face!
WHITE
LORNA TASKER
The world is most white at dawn. Beyond the dreaming trees
A white sky drifts
Like a great cloud of light. Within my shadowed room,
I wake,
Bathed in a sudden flow
Of misty white.
A white light gleams
Reflected from dark pictures On the wall.
My pillow is a throne of white Like drift of snow.
And we are hidden pray
At dawn, to God.
Perhaps the soul then is most white, Before the gold of day Gleams on its shadowed walls, And prayers on white wings Mount to Him, untouched
By any color of our deeds
Or dusk of dream.
PRAYER
L.KHAI
O Beloved! The Superlative of every good,
The Love that needs
No knowledge of face, or form or speech,
The Love so great we can never touch Thy Reality
But whose touch has realized all things
And Whose knowledge molds life’s essence Thou only are the Eternally Perfect
And the totality of beauty.
Out of eternity
Thou hast plucked the smallest grain
And called it time A speck of dust on Thy robe’s hem
Is the material universe Thy thought in the space of an eyewink
Comprehendeth the spiritual universe.
O Thou! Who asketh for all we know
Yet givest all we know Infinity is not enough for all our praise of Thee,
0 Most Adored One!
Origin of man’s spirit Singular, yet All-Containing Though beyond any and all approach,
Thou art the life of every living soul.
THE SONG Dedicated to the Báb
NANCY DOUGLAS Bownrrcu
Many a sweet song has been heard From human voice and singing bird On sequestered mountain-side In primal wood where wild things hide; In the summer evening hush I have heard the hermit thrush His silvery liquid notes outpour For those Who listen to adore;
But no music have I heard
Like the white Shírázi bird! '
At the ebon instrument
With a face of grave intent
The musician sat at ease,
Pale white hands on ivory keys,
And the glimmering candle flare
Lighted roses in her hair;
She, interpreting a song
That the world had loved so long. Still no music have I heard Like the white shirazi bird!
When the songs of children rise Under the summer sunset skies
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From young hearts so free and gay And youthful joy has claimed the day, Dancing down the flower-strewn lane Free from all old grief and pain, This seems only a small part To still the tumult of the heart,
Such a calming song is heard
From the white Shírázi bird.
Be still! What wondrous thing is here? The instruments are tuned to ear; The leader, mounting on his stand, Takes lightly his baton in hand, When 10! a mighty praise in notes Through the lofty chamber floats; The hearts are calmed, the minds are stilled, The souls with heavenly rapture filled. And yet—above this joyful throng I hear the glad Shirézi Song!
THE SONG OF TAHIRIH
NANCY DOUGLAS Boworrcn
Táhirih, flower of Persia’s women,
Pure white rose of love!
I see thy petals falling in the mirrored fountain
And the dark cypress pointing to the stars above;
Hear the nightingale, his full throat singing
Music in thy praise, fair follower of the dove.
When the Shírázi Youth, with his great story,
Opened wide the realms of light, Announcing the Immortal Glory, Became the “gate” and took the flight, His radiance flooded every city, Harsh voices called to new alarms, Shouting “Down! for we have no pity! ” Evil and darkness sprang to arms!
His pen had moved, Glad Tidings given,
His destiny fulfilled and passed;
The youthful Bab’s great heart had striven;
He met His martyrdom at last.
Fearless and filled with firm devotion,
Dauntless you stood for freedom’s goal;
From the wellspring of your deep emotion
You surrendered your immortal soul!
THE Bahá’í WORLD
You gave your life without a tremor To make the old traditions fall, Called the world’s sisterhood together To batter down the ancient wall. How wise men came to hear your wisdom
From behind the curtained door: And the monarch tried to save you,For your hand he did implore!
Your brave deeds rang around the world, Táhirih,
And a wave of justice swept
For your many unseen sisters
Who in bondage long had wept;
And the wonder of it all, rIféhirih,
That from out the land of Ta
You sent your silver bugle notes
To the Western world afar!
Táhirih, flower of Persia’s women, Pure white rose of love!
I see thy petals falling in the mirrored fountain
And the dark cypress pointing to the stars above;
Hear the nightingale, his full throat smgmg
Music in thy praise, fair follower of the dove.
THIS HEART THAT IS THY LYRE
J m THOMPSON
0 King of Kings! 0 King of Kings! My heart it is Thy quivering lyre, Thy vital fingers sweep its strings Sweep its strings, sweep its strings! Its strings are set afire, my Lord Its strings are set afire!
Oh kindled by Divine desire
For Thee it sings, for Thee it sings, Forevermore for Thee it sings,
This heart that is Thy lyre, my LordThis heart that is Thy lyre.
TO S. J . FARMER ON HER BIRTHDAY
J OHN GREENLEAF Wm
What shall we bring to her, What shall we sing to her, Of our love a token
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Here on her birthday What of her worth say Written or spoken?
Perchance while these latter days Light up Piscataqua’s Sunsets of glory, Some bard of Green Acre More worthy, may make her The theme of his story.
God’s angel we rank her! If vainly we thank her For all she has given, Her years of right living, Of blessing and giving, Are counted in heaven.
Of rough life the smoother, Of sorrow the soother,
Of trouble the calmer, For blinded eyes seeing, God bless her for being
Just Sarah J. Farmer!
Green Acre Eliot, Maine July 22, 1890.
A PRAYER T O Bahá’u’lláh
J.W. G.
Bahá’u’lláh, Thy spirit speaks to mine; Thy truth reveals the mind of One
divine; Thy words are life,——Thy words are
liberty; My heart is filled with Thine own
ecstasy!
Bahá’u’lláh, the Word of God to-day, I would more deeply know Thy righteous Way; I would be true to Truth that Thou hast taught, I would be seeking God whom Thou hast sought.
Bahá’u’lláh, my soul with love inspire; Kindle within, the Holy Spirit’s fire; Set me aflame to tell Thy word abroad, And lead imprisoned souls to Thine abode!
Bahá’u’lláh, when night’s dark shadows fall, May God through Thee be my soul’s All-in—all;
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And through Thy grace, may light immortal shine, And grant me Love in God’s own home divine!
September 11, 1948 Detroit, Mich. Tune: Finlandia
LA MADRUGADA DEL NUEVO DfA
ELSA MARiA GROSSMANN
Fué, Diés, Tu voluntad omnipotente,
Que por un mar de penas nos llevaba
Y con la mano de Tu amor Clemente
De un infierno de angustias nos salvaba.
Y fué Tu Fe, Sefior, que cual torrente De cristalino sol nos inundaba
Y en a1 noche de un siglo decadente La luz de Tu socorro nos mostraba.
O cuén hermosa naces, madrugada! Con nueva fe radiante de esperanza Ante Tu majestad mi amor se inclina,
Mientras e1 corazén en bienandanza Ya logra distinguir la voz sagrada, De Tu Revelacién la voz Divina.
DER WEG NACH TA
ELSA. MARI’A GROSSMANN
Das ist der Frieden, Herr, die tiefe Stille, Die Sehnsucht, Gott, nach Deinem Licht, Der Tag, an dem Dein Schépferwille Die Hulle meines Wesens bricht. Und ffihlbar wird ein Wogen, Wallen, Nach Deinem Meere, Herr, so grossUnd Wellen branden und verhallen Und rinnen still in Deinem Schoss.
Am Weg liegt meine Kraft
zerschlagen,
Das heisst, mein Wille, der nur sich geliebt,
Und Deine Kraft, sie will mich tragen,
Sie ist es, die mir Fliigel gibt.
Ich komme aus der Tiefe, atme Frieden,
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Weil ich mit Wissen meine Last verloi‘, Und wandernd durch das Tal hienieden Hebt langsam sich mein Blick empor.
Ich fiihl den Duft im Morgengrauen, Da krampft mein Herz in neuer Qual: “Du sollst Mein Antlitz niemals
schauen!” Hallt Gottes Stimme durch das Tal, Mein Herz will sich in Pein zerspalten In Gottes und der Erde Reich, “Hie!” “Driiben!” toben die Gewalten, Hermaggedon, dem Ende, gleich.
Ich greife nach der Erde Becher Und trinke seine volle Lust, Da wird im Angesicht der Zecher Mir seine Schalheit tief bewusst. Ja, gibt es, Herr, denn kein Entrinnen Und endet nichts der Seele Qua]? Soll jeder Tag mir neu beginnen Und enden in dem gleichen Tal?
Und wieder ging ich hin, es war am Morgen, ' Und meine Fiisse schritten durch das Land von Ta,
Da fand ich jenen Schatz verborgen,
Den Gott allein in seiner Schiinheit sah.
Im Klang der Sphéren schien die Luft zu schwingen
Und jegliches Atom vereinte sich dem Wort:
“Mein Licht, o Mensch, dringen,
Sein Antlitz ist Mein Aufgangsort!”
soll zu dir
So stieg der Herr des Universums Aus Gottes Schoss ins Sein empor, Es steht der Mensch im Tal der Erde Vor Seinem Licht an Gottes Tor.
“Sieh, Er ist Gott!” so jubeln die Atome
Vor Seiner Herrlichkeit im h6chsten Reich,
Und dennoch schwingt Sein Wort durch alle Himmelsdome:
“Mein Selbst, es ist dem Staube gleich!”
Mein Auge will sich nimmer schliessen, Seit ich, 0 Ta, Dein Licht gesehn. Mein Selbst, es liegt zu Deinem Ffissen Und will entziickt in Deinem Glanz vergehn.
THE Bahá’í WORLD
Ich fiihle Zyklen, J ahrmillionen
Sich beugen hier vor Deiner Macht
Und fiihl den Dank aus allen Schbpfungszonen,
Den reine Seelen Deiner Herrlichkeit gebracht.
Wie kann mein Sein Dich je
erfassen,
Der aller Himmel, aller Welten Glanz umschliesst,
Vor dem die Sonnen selbst in ihrem Schein verblassen,
Weil Er das ganze A11 mit Seiner Macht umfliesst!
0 Ta!, in meinem Innersten verborgen
Bring ich mein letztes “ich” an Deinem Tempel dar;
Dies ist der Schépfung erster Morgen
Und Gott allein ist, bleibt und war.
F IDELITY
WILLARD P . HATCH
“It behooveth thee to consecrate thysel)c to the will of God.” —BA.EA’U’LLAH
“When in perfect obedience thou followeth the path of evident Light, thou mayest rest assured that in a little while life will find the Beloved, the seeker, the Desired One, and the traveler the Goal.” —‘ABDU’L-BA.m’\
Fidelity, the Servant, draweth near his King,
And close abides where He
Doth dwell in Mystery:
Sent forth—His ring would wear
To draw the questing gaze, out there,
Of those who seek His Realm;
Bring them His Word and healing care Flung over land—skimming the sea How swiftly God’s Words flee,
Ranging the far horizons with Fidelity!
Fidelity to God! thus man can lifted be
To pilgrimage: journeying through life’s history
From dust to Adam—then, by faith in Thee,
Prostrate before the King of Majesty:
Prostrate —through Him to pray The while eternal lightnings play
From His great Kingdom, in this Judgment Day Firm hearts find peace and souls grow
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clean through Thee, Guardian of Fidelity.
O God! Forgiver of our great arrears!
We pray to Thee, through falling tears Thy Spirit changeless through the changing years Grant us Fidelity!
Bahá’u’lláh, the Fatherhood!
Ancient of Days! Glory of God!
These troubled times that wait the death of hate They need from Thee Fidelity!
That man, reborn unto the honor state,
Thoughts pure from strife,
May hear the tongues of atoms all relate
Thy Sacrifice and Life!
Fidelity! Fidelity!
Bow down before His Face,
For God, through Him, builds order o’er
Earth’s mighty, rounded space:
His planned Administration channels His Spirit’s Sun Growth brings to them who draw thus near to Him,
To find more selfless love begun,
It’s shining texture spun
To clothe all truthful souls, as He
Guards Firmness and Fidelity.
“BADl” (WONDERFUL) AGE 17
WILLARD P. HATCH
“Salt of My Tablets.” -—Bahá’u’lláh “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”
—ST. PAUL, Comms 1-15226
But seventeen—his father thought him dull: His life was quiet, like the lull Before a hurricane—what chemistry Could raise this leaden weight to gold? What sunrise on his field of spirit shine, Him to enthrall, enfold?
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Could he, a peasant, talk unto a king, From King of kings, God’s Word to bring: This youth, whose life from mom to night seemed void A shell but cast upon a shore By tides that flow and ebb and flow again; This youth, unknown before?
And yet his world was tense, and anger flowed, As weeds grow thick along a road; For Islam’s priests Bahá’u’lláh dared flout, For He their Muslim life would free From greed, and vice, and bigots’ creeds that bound That life to misery.
For volunteers, God’s Word went forth, and all The leaders answered to Its call: “But no,” Bahá’u’lláh replied: “Not they Would have the spirit firm and bold To face a martyr’s painful death, therefore, God’s might shall be extolled.”
To “Badi”, then, He spoke, and “Badi” shook And all his inmost heart awoke: From ice, he changed to brilliant, burning flame; His veins with fiery power surged; The Tablet to the Shéh, concealed, he,
boreHis soul and death had merged:
For death, Bahá’u’lláh had said would be The fate His messenger should see: From ‘Akká, “Badi” to far Tihran did go; On foot, the desert miles did trace; Then, dressed in white, his fast complete, “Badi” Stood up, the Shéh to face:
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“0 king, with message from Sheba I come to thee!” The Tablet held aloft: “This to be My death!” “Not so,” they said: (“Badi” they chained): “Easy is quick death, tortured thy role!” Serene, his mighty soul, undaunted, paid Three days, a frightful toll:
They killed his body, yes—his beaten head, His branded limbs, proclaimed him dead: His spirit, free, had risen—God had calledHow blind their eyes, that could not see Joyous, “Badi” radiant, had gone to dwell In Heaven’s ecstasy.
But seventeen—his father thought him dull: His life was quiet, like the lull Before a hurricane—God’s chemistry Had changed its leaden weight to gold; God’s Sun upon his field of vision shone, Him to enthrall, enfold.
‘AKKA
LAURA ROMNEY DAVIS
Dark ‘Akká! Ancient fortress beside the Eastern Sea, Where Christian fought with Saracen in the days that used to be, Drear ‘Akká! in whose dungeon-tombs beside thy changeless tide
Lay, rotting, hapless prisoners whom Earth had cast aside.
Dread ‘Akká! Citadel accursed by anguish and despair
Of all the myriads who were doomed to pine and perish there.
Dark ‘Akká! foul and deadly! The birds that flew o’er thee
Were poisoned by thy putrid breath and by thy stagnant sea!
Till 10! One day from I'ran’s land by order of the Turk,
A Prisoner passed within thy gates, into thy filth and murk A Prisoner such as n’er before thy dungeons did enclose,
A Messenger of God—a Man destined
THE Bahá’í
WORLD
to heal earth’s woes.
Within thy darkest dungeon, with the lowest dregs of men,
They locked the irons round His neck and beat Him yet again.
His gaolers came, and marvelled, when they saw the face of Him
Whom Shéh and Mullah had condemned for heresy and sin.
For in His eyes glowed Power, His voice rang with command,
And all His words were holy, and all His little band
Filled the long night with praying and chanting praise to God,
Nor would they stop for hunger, nor ceased they for the rod.
The winds that blew o’er ‘Akká and found this Prisoner there
Swept out the stench and staleness with a purer, fresher air.
The stagnant sea of ‘Akká felt that Holy Presence too,
And, cleansed and purified it sparkled brilliant, blue.
The hearts that were in ‘Akká all felt that mighty love
And opened, like red rosebuds to the shining sun above.
And those whose souls could listen and those whose hearts could hear
Thrilled with new conviction of God’s Kingdom, drawing near. For this Prisoner brought a Promise of the Day of God, on earth, The Day the Prophets prophesied, for which mankind had birth.
A promise of a world, reborn, a new, God—given Plan,
With the peoples joined to peoples in the Brotherhood of Man.
To Him Who came to ‘Akká, a Prisoner in chains,
Whose Message rings around the world o’er mountains, seas and plains
Whose clarion Call flung wide the gates to usher in God’s Day,
0! May our hearts be open, our minds and wills obey!
Bright ‘Akká! Thou art purified because He dwelt in thee
Thy Prisoner from Írán has cleansed and set thee free.
Blest ‘Akká! Beauteous city below Mount Carmel curled,
The New Day dawns, and crowns thee
The Center of the World!
