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C
AN you see the rising forecast of the time when gather clouds? Can you see instead of chariots a pyramid of shrouds? Do you comprehend the meaning, the rolling of the scroll? We may treat the matter lightly, but the call is to the soul. Go back two thousand years and trace the Star which led the Wise, And find the Halley comet there, the truth that never dies; Trace down unto the present time, perhaps this is the last; True, this recurrence leaves no doubt of great events fore- cast; It has preceded great events; it opes a solemn gate; The powers of earth, a Babylon, may jar the ships of state; Grave submarines patrol the depths; the biplanes sail the air; Life has a subway where we step, although with greatest care; Perverted have men's minds become, in gold they seek a god And wrest the bread from weaker hands and cast them to the sod; While countless millions they attain and seem to covet all; The graphic lesson is forgot; the writing on the wall: Signs of the times are evidence that we may well prepare For grave events--we feel the touch; it seems upon the air, And though Re give it little thought, earth is a seething coal, The heat perturbs our Book of Life; the folding of the scroll. *Written January 13, 1913. |