Children of the Night

The Children of the Night

     For those that never know the light,
      The darkness is a sullen thing;
     And they, the Children of the Night,
      Seem lost in Fortune's winnowing.

     But some are strong and some are weak, —
      And there's the story.  House and home
     Are shut from countless hearts that seek
      World-refuge that will never come.

     And if there be no other life,
      And if there be no other chance
     To weigh their sorrow and their strife
      Than in the scales of circumstance,

     'T were better, ere the sun go down
      Upon the first day we embark,
     In life's imbittered sea to drown,
      Than sail forever in the dark.

     But if there be a soul on earth
      So blinded with its own misuse
     Of man's revealed, incessant worth,
      Or worn with anguish, that it views

     No light but for a mortal eye,
      No rest but of a mortal sleep,
     No God but in a prophet's lie,
      No faith for "honest doubt" to keep;

     If there be nothing, good or bad,
      But chaos for a soul to trust, —
     God counts it for a soul gone mad,
      And if God be God, He is just.

     And if God be God, He is Love;
      And though the Dawn be still so dim,
     It shows us we have played enough
      With creeds that make a fiend of Him.

     There is one creed, and only one,
      That glorifies God's excellence;
     So cherish, that His will be done,
      The common creed of common sense.

     It is the crimson, not the gray,
      That charms the twilight of all time;
     It is the promise of the day
      That makes the starry sky sublime;

     It is the faith within the fear
      That holds us to the life we curse; —
     So let us in ourselves revere
      The Self which is the Universe!

     Let us, the Children of the Night,
      Put off the cloak that hides the scar!
     Let us be Children of the Light,
      And tell the ages what we are!