OCCUPATION

There must in heaven be many industries

And occupations, varied, infinite;

Or heaven could not be heaven.

What gracious tasks

The Mighty Maker of the universe

Can offer souls that have prepared on earth

By holding lovely thoughts and fair desires!

Art thou a poet to whom words come not?

A dumb composer of unuttered sounds,

Ignored by fame and to the world unknown?

Thine may be, then, the mission to create

Immortal lyrics and immortal strains,

For stars to chant together as they swing

About the holy centre where God dwells.

Hast thou the artist instinct with no skill

To give it form or colour? Unto thee

It may be given to paint upon the skies

Astounding dawns and sunsets, framed by seas

And mountains; or to fashion and adorn

New faces for sweet pansies and new dyes

To tint their velvet garments. Oftentimes

Methinks behind a beauteous flower I see,

Or in the tender glory of a dawn,

The presence of some spirit who has gone

Into the place of mystery, whose call,

Imperious and compelling, sounds for all

Or soon or late. So many have passed on -

So many with ambitions, hopes, and aims

Unrealised, who could not be content

As idle angels even in paradise.

The unknown Michelangelos who lived

With thoughts on beauty bent while chained to toil

That gave them only bread and burial -

These must find waiting in the world of space

The shining timbers of their splendid dreams,

Ready for shaping temples, shrines, and towers,

Where radiant hosts may congregate to raise

Their glad hosannas to the God Supreme.

And will there not be gardens glorious,

And mansions all embosomed among blooms,

Where heavenly children reach out loving arms

To lonely women who have been denied

On earth the longed-for boon of motherhood?

Surely God has provided work to do

For souls like these, and for the weary, rest.