GIFT OF THERE IS NO NIGHT BY IRA EDMUND STANFORD ^ O H O u tu d O ? P ^ M* | 5 CO h 1 * tD ^^ 3 ^ CO M HS 1 Hi CQ P P o H- CQ ^ <<J H. & C-i 1-^ 1 ^ ^ <; ^ K M p-* r>* II. ^ H- M, . X^ h- J *~3 ^ 1 S ? *"3 H- -$ CQ PJ ct- <<J C I-- ^ c+ S H. (_ P >-+> h- 1 * O M- C ^ O CO 3 H P- << I- 1 C H. c ^ P H 3 f E M P M P o P" w < P P* < CQ *~5 C~^" c 4 < e CD CD P O PJ ^ C P- h- 1 O ^ co C+ c: ~3 H- H* i <! P c*" O P O H- 5 < >o g H << ^ H* CQ HJ > I g CG 3 HV i ^ CD j ^ * P P P^ 0) Q ^ I ^ B 1 P O H O CD M \-t C - -Q C+ O P *d co Mj I P" C+" -< CD THERE IS NO NIGHT AND OTHER VERSE Written and Assembled by IRA EDMUND STANFORD Author of "Wayside Gleanings," "Service," "A Royal Success," "Texts," "Democracy," etc. Copyright 1920 by Ira Edmund Stanford THERE IS NO NIGHT 417969 INTERROGATION Oh! dust of earth! Touched by the leven Which was and is: The Word in heaven, Whence art thou? Lo! Whither dost thou fl Behold! The Father in the son Promise and pledge fulfilled in one, A PILGRIM COMMITMENT Through the panoramic vicissitudes and asso ciations of a half century, seeing, hearing, touching, and tasting the real things that constitute a human life, I have studied and observed with keenest scrutiny, from hovel and hut, from classroom, prison, and mart, the desires, ambitions, achieve ments and destinies of men. Having elbowed with those tossed on billows of adversity &ored by the horns of disappoint ment in both afiection and finance yea, having been permitted to &rasp the hand and stay the thought of some standing on the very pinnacle of despair imploring the bodkin or other a&ent of the unknown and meanwhile having sought diligently for the well spring probed for the secret touch, the "modus operandi" of building, &reat character; I have an incurable pursuasion that every man under normal dome is born with a faculty (latent or ignored) which possesses him THERE IS NO NIGHT with an innate ability not only to recognize but to pass judgment upon all acts of ri&ht and wrong, as pertains to his own character. If he will follow with unfaltering alacrity the dictations from within, not allowing himself to become dwarfed, biased, or pi&mied by strained commercialism, false teaching, and evil association, he will, regardless of place, color, or condition, countersug&estion or whatsoever, ultimately pass judgment on his own acts determine his own destiny, and attain unto perfect happiness and abiding peace. It is my further conviction that if every man were scrupulously honest and box-toed with himself &oin& forth to bailiff with all alacrity every minute verdict of his internal court the heart, e&o, eclesia, mind, or will, the most coveted &oal, the wildest ambition, and highest ideals would become immediate realities. Straightway universal justice would prevail, and the Utopian a&e would be transformed from the misty, in tangible, far-off dream into a glorious, opulent present reality. THERE IS NO NIGHT To all wKo are passing throu&h trials of priva tion, discouragements, anxiety, disappointments, agonies with lin&erin& doubts and na&&in fears you have an anchor which is sure and steadfast within you. It (the truth) shall be in you a well of water sprin&in& up unto everlasting life. Thus anchored, we shall possess the grandeur of inde pendent integrity, the sublimest thing, in all nature. Now, to all such and to the many friends who have desired a copy of "There Is no Ni&ht" after much thought mingled with serious meditation, I affectionately submit this little booklet with the full hope that you studying to show yourself approved unto &ood, may learn the secret of happiness in service, &rasp the author s interpre tation of living, truth and behold your li&ht. Most sincerely committed, IRA EDMUND STANFORD. THERE IS NO NIGHT Old! Growing old! Aye, can it be? Man not born for eternity? Dons he the cradle labeled old To swiftly pass like tales he s told, Doth bended form, do tresses &ray Bespeak thee more than closing day? Yon orb of li&ht doth steal away To but clothe vales in vestures &ray, Think you the tints on crests between Can rob one whit of splendent sheen? Not sobs, nor tears, nor any plight Can stay his irresistless flight. Lon& shadows fall from cottage old, Blank ni&ht creeps on. Blank? I behold In fancy wild, the frizzled shrouds THERE IS NO NIGHT Which wrap the clay of myriad crowds, I scan the bier, that reckoned spouse Of all who proach the narrow house. The wailing wind brings woeful tone That chills the marrow in my bone. Doth coy man tread the mystic deep Whence strangely soon there s none to weep? What! One step bare and one that s shod, Then fold our mantles neath the sod? Strange sounds are heard at dead of ni&ht When some lone soul is taking flight. I list once more, I strain my si&ht, To hear no voice and catch no li&ht. It stays my thoughts, they trouble so, Those horrid doubts of lon& a&o. A grassy knoll, prepared place For faith and zeal in such a race? A home like that, down twixt the pines THERE IS NO NIGHT Its walls bedecked with moss and vines? Think you Omnicience ever could Forsake the thing, he once called &ood? Justice defies the demon s thrust That men, like worms, return to dust. I reaffirm; it must be ri&ht, That unto man THERE IS NO NIGHT. That awful thought o erwhelms my brain Til body rent and racked with pain Upstarts as from its wanton dreams To hail once more, perchance what seems A fiery arm; a missile clasped With which to break this monster s &rasp Twas vapored spray across the deep, A meteor had &one to sleep. Once more, in darkness all alone, I felt within, the spirit s &roan, And spectres jeered in boisterous &lee "Lost is your opportunity." THERE IS NO NIGHT Beneath tKe damp and chill of death I gasped and gasped for one more breath, By which to hurl the arch foe fear With "Would to God my Lord were here." Though pulses fail, my throat would fill, I whisper yet, "Thy will! Thy will! I am thy child, for aye shall be, To such there s no extremity, Through faith and love Thy face I d see, E en though twere through Gethsemane!" A sheen of li&ht o ercasts my bed, A voice speaks, "Hush! He is not dead. This one &reat truth believe aye, know, Because I live, ye live also. I am of truth Thy life, Thy breath, Believe in me. Ne er taste of death." I leap upright, dazed in the &low, I hide my face and bend me low. A voice within, so firm yet sweet, THERE IS NO NIGHT This wondrous message doth repeat. "There s one &reat truth I needs must brin&, It is the edict from thy Kin&." Wrin not thy hands, spurn idle tears, In retrospect of misspent years, Where lack of zeal has failed to show To faltering men the God you know. Arise and do, where man hath trod, The things I bid for, I am God. I am in you and you in me We twain are one eternally, This doth thy God require of thee, Live truth for all humanity." This mandate heed, the voice obey, Then serve with Him through endless day, Why sorrowing, &rope thou thy way? The darkest hour lies nearest day. When shadows fall and cables strain, Through &rievin& loss or crucial pain, THERE IS NO NIGHT We re want to Kold unwitting plaint, Toward Him who guides, though oft restraint Be Wisdom s way to brin& about The &ood of man from inside out. Should I bechide "It s God s own way Permitting ni&ht to follow day?" Strong dwells the God of Love in thee To lead and shape thy destiny. The voice within thou shalt obey, With him is life, the truth, the way, His star appears. The truth is born, That darkened men may reach the morn. The sun is risen! There is no ni&ht, Brother, fear-tossed, behold thy li&ht. THERE IS NO NIGHT REFINING To everyone in life There comes some testing, time, A day to try the soul As ne er before; When character rises To heights sublime, Or failing, it falls Perchance to rise no more. THERE IS NO NIGHT MY CARPENTER I know we are building As we journey alon& by the way; Each thought is a nail driven In timbers that cannot decay. At last when we ve finished Be it loathsome, majestic, or &ay It shall be returned to us Just as we willed and built it today, A PILGRIM S CAMP *AN EXECUTIVE ODE Where justice rei&ns in any fi&ht, Whatever is is always ri&ht, Staid He the hand that would defeat To cast the world now at thy feet? Dear chosen voice, whate er betide, A loyal host is at thy side. No North, no South, no East, no West, You are our country s barred breast With sword unsheathed as her behest To avenge the wrongs of God s oppressed. Since justice now is our delight, Whatever is, is always ri&ht. The blood this awful scourge has shed * Dedicated and addressed to the Chief Executive of the United States of America on March tenth, nineteen seventeen at the close of one of the keenest political campaigns in a half century and at a time when war clouds bulked ominous and the roar of cannon and shell were continental. AN EXECUTIVE ODE Cries for revenue from, cursed dead. The Oppressor s clan now hides its face Through consciousness, needless disgrace. Great God who doth the worlds command Be thou Columbia s brain and hand. Unto her sons wisdom ordain Let Justice now thy people rei&n That awful scourge of shot and shell Be cast with all into its hell. Let Peace with ri&ht come on apace Till it shall compass every race. And then, Oh God of love and li&ht, Where your Son shines there is no ni&ht. When Justice wields the sword of mi&ht, Whatever is, is always Ri&ht. Oaylord Bros. Maker* Syracuse, M.It. 417969 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY