Who Is A Christian?

Who is a Christian in this Christian land
Of many churches and of lofty spires?
Not he who sits in soft upholstered pews
Bought by the profits of unholy greed,
And looks devotion, while he thinks of gain.
Not he who sends petitions from the lips
That lie to-morrow in the street and mart.
Not he who fattens on another's toil,
And flings his unearned riches to the poor,
Or aids the heathen with a lessened wage,
And builds cathedrals with an increased rent.

Christ, with Thy great, sweet, simple creed of love,
How must Thou weary of Earth's 'Christian' clans,
Who preach salvation through Thy saving blood
While planning slaughter of their fellow men.
Who is a Christian?    It is one whose life
Is built on love, on kindness and on faith;
Who holds his brother as his other self;
Who toils for justice, equity and PEACE,
And hides no aim or purpose in his heart
That will not chord with universal good.

Though he be pagan, heretic or Jew,
That man is Christian and beloved of Christ.

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

God's Answer

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Ghosts

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Solitude

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

A Picture.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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God Rules Alway

Into the world's most high and holy places
    Men carry selfishness, and graft and greed.
The air is rent with warring of the races;
    Loud Dogmas drown a brother's cry of need.
The Fleet-of-Creeds, upon Time's ocean lurches;
    And there is mutiny upon her decks;
And in the light of temples, and of churches,
    Against life's shores drift wrecks and derelicts.
    (God rules, God rules alway.)

Right in the shadow of the lofty steeple,
    Which crowns some costly edifice of faith,
Behold the throngs of hungry, unhoused people;
    The 'Bread Line,' flanked by charity and death.
See yonder Churchman, opulently doing
    Unnumbered deeds, which gladden and resound;
The while his thrifty tenant is pursuing
    The white slave trade on sacred, untaxed ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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 ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Creed.

        Whoever was begotten by pure love,
        And came desired and welcome into life,
        Is of immaculate conception. He
        Whose heart is full of tenderness and truth,
        Who loves mankind more than he loves himself,
        And cannot find room in his heart for hate,
        May be another Christ. We all may be
        The Saviours of the world if we believe
        In the Divinity which dwells in us
        And worship it, and nail our grosser selves,
        Our tempers, greeds, and our unworthy aims,
        Upon the cross. Who giveth love to all;
        Pays kindness for unkindness, smiles for frowns;
        And lends new courage to each fainting heart,
        And strengthens hope and scatters joy abroad -
        He, too, is a Redeemer...

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 Times

    The times are not degenerate. Man's faith
Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed
Can take from the immortal soul the need
    Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith
Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth
Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth.

    Man may not worship at the ancient shrine
Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn.
That night is past. He hails a fairer morn,
    And knows himself a something all divine;
No humble worm whose heritage is sin,
But, born of God, he feels the Christ within.

    Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time,
But deep his reverence for that mighty force.
That occult working of the great all Source,
    Which makes the present era so sublime.
Religion now means something high and broad,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Times

    The times are not degenerate.    Man's faith
Mounts higher than of old.    No crumbling creed
Can take from the immortal soul the need
    Of that supreme Creator, God.    The wraith
Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth
Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth.

    Man may not worship at the ancient shrine
Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn.
That night is past.    He hails a fairer morn,
    And knows himself a something all divine;
Not humble worm whose heritage is sin,
But, born of God, he feels the Christ withal.

    Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time,
But deep his reverence for that mighty force,
That occult working of the great All-Source,
    Which makes the present era so sublime.
Religion now means something high a...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox