Quo Vadis?

Peter, outworn,
And menaced by the sword,
Shook off the dust of Rome;
And, as he fled,
Met one, with eager face,
Hastening cityward,
And, to his vast amaze,
It was The Lord.
"Lord, whither goest Thou?"
He cried, importunate,
And Christ replied,--
"Peter, I suffer loss.
I go to take thy place,
To bear thy cross."

Then Peter bowed his head,
Discomforted;
There, at the Master's feet,
Found grace complete,
And courage, and new faith,
And turned--with Him,
To Death.

So we,--
Whene'er we fail
Of our full duty,
Cast on Him our load,--
Who suffered sore for us,
Who frail flesh wore for us,
Who all things bore for us,--
On Christ, The Lord.

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

William Arthur Dunkerley, better known by his pen name John Oxenham, was an English journalist, novelist, and poet. He was a prolific writer in the early 20th century, producing a wide range of literary works including poetry, hymns, and novels. His works often reflected Christian themes and were popular during his time. Dunkerley also contributed to the establishment of the Boys' Brigade, a notable youth organization in the UK. His legacy includes a significant contribution to both literature and social causes.

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

Flora's Bit

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Shadows

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

Bed-Rock

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

His Mercy Endureth For Ever

William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham), Simple Poetry

English

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The Vision Of St. Peter.

To Peter by night the faithfullest came
    And said, "We appeal to thee!
The life of the Church is in thy life;
    We pray thee to rise and flee.

"For the tyrant's hand is red with blood,
    And his arm is heavy with power;
Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall
    If thou tarry in Rome an hour."

Through the sleeping town St. Peter passed
    To the wide Campagna plain;
In the starry light of the Alban night
    He drew free breath again:

When across his path an awful form
    In luminous glory stood;
His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet,
    Were wet with immortal blood.

The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes
    Seemed changed to a godlike wrath
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Road-Mates

From deepest depth, O Lord, I cry to Thee.
"My Love runs quick to your necessity."

I am bereft; my soul is sick with loss.
"Dear one, I know.    My heart broke on the Cross."

What most I loved is gone.    I walk alone.
"My Love shall more than fill his place, my own."

The burden is too great for me to bear.
"Not when I'm here to take an equal share."

The road is long, and very wearisome.
"Just on in front I see the light of home."

The night is black; I fear to go astray.
"Hold My hand fast.    I'll lead you all the way."

My eyes are dim, with weeping all the night.
"With one soft kiss I will restore your sight."

And Thou wilt do all this for me?--for me?
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William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

To You Who Have Lost
I know! I know!--
The ceaseless ache, the emptiness, the woe,--
The pang of loss,--
The strength that sinks beneath so sore a cross.
"--Heedless and careless, still the world wags on,
And leaves me broken ... Oh, my son! my son!"

Yet--think of this!--
Yea, rather think on this!--
He died as few men get the chance to die,--
Fighting to save a world's morality.
He died the noblest death a man may die,
Fighting for God, and Right, and Liberty;--
And such a death is Immortality.

"He died unnoticed in the muddy trench."
Nay,--God was with him, and he did not blench;
Filled him with holy fires that nought could quench,
And when He saw his work below was done,
He gently called to him,--"My son! My son!
I need thee for a...
William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)

Saint Peter
O Peter, wherefore didst thou doubt?
Indeed the spray flew fast about,
But he was there whose walking foot
Could make the wandering hills take root;
And he had said, "Come down to me,"
Else hadst thou not set foot on sea!
Christ did not call thee to thy grave!
Was it the boat that made thee brave?

"Easy for thee who wast not there
To think thou more than I couldst dare!
It hardly fits thee though to mock
Scared as thou wast that railway shock!
Who saidst this morn, 'Wife, we must go--
The plague will soon be here, I know!'
Who, when thy child slept--not to death--
Saidst, 'Life is now not worth a breath!'"

Saint Peter, thou rebukest well!
It needs no tempest me to quell,
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Gadara, A.D. 31
Rabbi, begone! Thy powers
Bring loss to us and ours.
Our ways are not as Thine.
Thou lovest men, we--swine.
Oh, get you hence, Omnipotence,
And take this fool of Thine!
His soul? What care we for his soul?
What good to us that Thou hast made him whole,
Since we have lost our swine?

And Christ went sadly.
He had wrought for them a sign
Of Love, and Hope, and Tenderness divine;
They wanted--swine.
Christ stands without your door and gently knocks;
But if your gold, or swine, the entrance blocks,
He forces no man's hold--he will depart,
And leave you to the treasures of your heart.

No cumbered chamber will the Master share,
But one swept bare
By cleansing fires, then plenished fresh and fair
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Policeman X
"Shall it be Peace?
A voice within me cried and would not cease,--
'One man could do it if he would but dare.'"
(From "Policeman X" in "Bees in Amber.")

He did not dare!
His swelling pride laid wait
On opportunity, then dropped the mask
And tempted Fate, cast loaded dice,--and lost;
Nor recked the cost of losing.

"Their souls are mine.
Their lives were in thy hand;--
Of thee I do require them!"

The Voice, so stern and sad, thrilled my heart's core
And shook me where I stood.
Sharper than sharpest sword, it fell on him
Who stood defiant, muffle-cloaked and helmed,
With eyes that burned, impatient to be gone.

"The fetor of thy grim burnt offerings
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William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)