The Call of the Master

I.

This the call of the Master, and this is the great Command:
"Forward, march, to the shadows!
Fare forth to the Slumber Land!
There's the crown and the purple!
And there is the smile and song,
Past the ways of the weary, and over the hills of wrong!"

II.

Forth at call of the Master! Still forth for his perfect grace!
Sweet the vision of valor, and fair is the loving face!
Swift the cradle forgetting, and far from the sob between,
March to reign of the rain-bow, and dreams of the years unseen!

III.

Rolls the sword in a circle! The whirl and the flash of fire,
Burn the years like a cinder and claim for their monstrous hire!
Croon of cradle, be silent! And down, thou curtain of doom!
Weird as sobs of the midnight the dirge of the wailing tomb!

IV.

Brothers, step to the music! Still on with a shout and song!
Flags above for the triumphs o'er struggles so lone and long!
Croon of cradle and love-song! The ditty and dirge of strife,
All are daughters of duty and call to the golden life!

V.

See, the purples of even! Lo, Love has a rosy hand!
Hate fades dim in the distance and grief is a far-off land!
Sweet, 'tis time for the slumber!
With croon of the cradle-song,
Rest we there in the Father's arms where the little ones belong!

Dry your eyes, my love, and we
Both shall laugh with rhapsody,
Hand in hand through all the days
And the world's peculiar ways!
What to us unhappiness
Of the sad heart's storm and stress?
Joy shall hold our hands and twine
Heart to heart through storm and shine!