The Goal

All roads that lead to God are good;
    What matters it, your faith, or mine;
    Both centre at the goal divine
Of love's eternal Brotherhood.

The kindly life in house or street;
    The life of prayer, and mystic rite;
    The student's search for truth and light;
These paths at one great junction meet.

Before the oldest book was writ,
    Full many a prehistoric soul
    Arrived at this unchanging goal,
Through changeless love, that led to it.

What matters that one found his Christ
    In rising sun, or burning fire;
    If faith within him did not tire,
His longing for the truth sufficed.

Before our 'Christian' hell was brought
    To edify a modern world,
    Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled
In lakes of fire by its own thought.

A thousand creeds have come and gone;
    But what is that to you or me?
    Creeds are but branches of a tree,
The root of love lives on and on.

Though branch by branch proves withered wood,
    The root is warm with precious wine;
    Then keep your faith, and leave me mine;
ALL roads that lead to God are good.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox was an American author and poet, born on November 5, 1850, and died on October 30, 1919. She was known for her works expressing optimistic views and moral lessons. Her most famous book was 'Poems of Passion'. Her poem 'Solitude' contains the famous lines, 'Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone'. Over her career, Wilcox became popularly known as a 'people's poet'.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Holiday

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English

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All Roads That Lead To God Are Good

All roads that lead to God are good.
    What matters it, your faith, or mine?
    Both centre at the goal divine
Of love's eternal Brotherhood.

The kindly life in house or street -
    The life of prayer and mystic rite -
    The student's search for truth and light -
These paths at one great Junction meet.

Before the oldest book was writ,
    Full many a prehistoric soul
    Arrived at this unchanging goal,
Through changeless Love, that leads to it.

What matters that one found his Christ
    In rising sun, or burning fire?
    If faith within him did not tire,
His longing for the Truth sufficed.

Before our modern hell was brought
    To edify the modern world,
    Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled
In lakes of fire...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

My Faith

My faith is rooted in no written creed;
And there are those who call me heretic;
Yet year on year, though I be well or sick
Or opulent, or in the slough of need,
If, light of foot, fair Life trips by me pleasuring,
Or, by the rule of pain, old Time stands measuring
The dull, drab moments - still ascends my cry:
'God reigns on high!
He doeth all things well!'

Not much I prize, or one, or any brand
Of theologic lore; nor think too well
Of generally accepted heaven and hell.
But faith and knowledge build at Love's command
A beauteous heaven; a heaven of thought all clarified
Of hate and fear and doubt; a heaven of rarefied
And perfect trust; and from the heaven I cry:
'God reigns on high!
Whatever is, is best.'

My faith refuses to accept the...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Simple Creeds

If this were our creed it were creed enough
    To keep us thoughtful and make us brave;
On this sad journey o'er pathways rough
    That lead us steadily on to the grave.

Speak no evil, and cause no ache,
Utter no jest that can pain awake;
Guard your actions and bridle your tongue,
Words are adders when hearts are stung.

If this were our aim, it were all, in sooth,
    That any soul needs, to climb to heaven,
And we would not cumber the way of truth
    With dreary dogmas, or rites priest given.

Help whoever, whenever you can,
Man for ever needs aid from man.
Let never a day die in the West,
That you have not comforted some sad heart.

Were this our belief we need not...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Creed To Be

Our thoughts are moulding unmade spheres,
    And, like a blessing or a curse,
They thunder down the formless years,
    And ring throughout the universe.

We build our futures by the shape
    Of our desires, and not by acts.
There is no pathway of escape;
    No priest-made creeds can alter facts.

Salvation is not begged or bought;
    Too long this selfish hope sufficed;
Too long man reeked with lawless thought,
    And leaned upon a tortured Christ.

Like shrivelled leaves, these worn-out creeds
    Are dropping from Religion's tree;
The world begins to know its needs,
    And souls are crying to be free.

Free from the load of fear and grief,
    Man fashioned in an ignorant age;
Free from the ache of unbelief
    He fl...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Faith We Need

Too tall our structures, and too swift our pace;
Not so we mount, not so we gain the race.
Too loud the voice of commerce in the land;
Not so truth speaks, not so we understand.
Too vast our conquests, and too large our gains;
Not so comes peace, not so the soul attains.

But the need of the world is a faith that will live anywhere;
In the still dark depths of the woods, or out in the sun's full glare.
A faith that can hear God's voice, alike in the quiet glen,
Or in the roar of the street, and over the noises of men.

And the need of the world is a creed that is founded on joy;
A creed with the turrets of hope and trust, no winds can destroy;
A creed where the soul finds rest, whatever this life bestows,
And dwells undoubting and unafraid, because it knows, it kno...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Way

However certain of the way thou art,
Take not the self-appointed leader's part.
Follow no man, and by no man be led,
And no man lead.    AWAKE, and go ahead.
Thy path, though leading straight unto the goal
Might prove confusing to another soul.
The goal is central; but from east, and west,
And north, and south, we set out on the quest;
From lofty mountains, and from valleys low:-
How could all find one common way to go?

Lord Buddha to the wilderness was brought.
Lord Jesus to the Cross.    And yet, think not
By solitude, or cross, thou canst achieve,
Lest in thine own true Self thou dost believe.
Know thou art One, with life's Almighty Source,
Then are thy feet set on the certain Course.

Nor does it matter if thou feast, or fast,
Or what thy c...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox