Wisdom of the Ages, by George A. Fuller, [1916], at sacred-texts.com
Wisdom of the Ages, by George A. Fuller, [1916], at sacred-texts.com
Let no sound of martial strain be heard throughout thy world, oh, soul! March not forth with banners flying and trumpets echoing afar.
Let not, oh, soul, thy path be strewn with human wrecks and tortured forms.
Let not thy way be o’er earthly battlefields gory with human blood.
Let not thy onward course be paved with hopes and aspirations lost.
Let not splendor of outward expression dim the inner light and glory.
Strike, then, the grandest note of all, of peace and love to all mankind.
Over all the strife and discord of the world then let this thought prevail—
Peace, soft, sweet, like fleecy night-clouds.
Enfolding and enwrapping all in folds of perfect trust and love!
Light ineffable, glorious, all-potent, yet soft and silent as that of distant star, slowly, yet surely, lifting every soul out of the dark and dismal earthly hells.
Angels, not blaming earth's wayward ones, but with tender, loving arms encircling all, rescuing from maelstroms of anger and passion; supporting tottering footsteps along life's wearisome way, until, at last, the soul is quickened, and the master spirit asserts itself.
Not the assertion of self in the merely outward expression of things through martial power, brutal strength, and accumulation of worldly goods.
But that only real and true assertion of self that is forgetful of all outward expressions,
resultants of power, strength, and worldly goods, save as they lead to the higher interests and greater benefits of the many.
Light, dispelling clouds of ignorance, removing obstacles, overcoming difficulties, making smooth the path where human feet needs must press;
Light, revealing unto enraptured vision new earths and new heavens, homes of contented and happy beings;
Light, making plain that which before perplexed and troubled;
Light, servant of spirits, angels and archangels, mighty and all-potent for human good when wisely directed;
Lead thou our spirits on,
From night unto day,
From discord and strife unto peace,
From selfishness unto that true love of self that can bide no ill unto others.
Lead thou our spirits on,
Away from charnel-houses of sin and death,
From battlefields and dismal prison cells,
From anger and hate's accursed fires,
Unto that love knowing no my nor mine save only that which leads to good of all.
Lead thou our spirits on,
Oh, light, messenger of Thā and Omn,
Through all the devious paths of life,
Thick-strewn with many a fret and care,
Until all clouds are gone, all strifes are gone,
And burn forever upon the altar of human hearts the fires of love and peace.