Majestic silence crowns them as they stand,
The waiting, ancient prophets of the earth.
One has no thought of classing them with trees
That deck the land and serve men by their death.
Base sacrilege to mention ax or saw;
Let not their presence e’er insulted be
By cruel weapons man would stoop to use.
Disciples, we should bow in deep respect.
With heads uncovered we can well afford
To pause a while and listen to their voice.
How gracious that they do not speak in words!
Our hearts would miss their message if they did.
As silently I dare to open wide
My heart and gaze upon their mighty forms,
Their noble mien invites my confidence,
And I am conscious they are helping me.
It is not that they speak about themselves,
Although I notice scars and twisted limbs
And hear them chanting music sweet and strange.
There is no harking back to days now past­
The golden day of song or battle hymn.
The whole is but an accident of life
And they are lifted far above it all.
In passing they have weathered many storms
And songs are tangled in each swaying branch.
But these are never mentioned in their song,
For they themselves are greater than them all.
Their strength and beauty rising thus from life
Convict me of the sordid ways of self.
Their strength crowds out my weakness and I hate
The selfishness which cramps me in its hold.
Their beauty, born of pain so bravely met,
Confounds self-pity which would wreck my soul.
I hate my littleness and long to be
All that I may in brave response to life.
And, strange to say, that while they speak to me
My heart is still and unafraid.
Their greatness makes them gentle in their art.
Rebuking me, they make me love them more.
They are my friends because they tell the truth,
And make me want to side against myself.
The food of fools ‘tis said is flattery.
Who knows no weakness need never hope to grow.
Subdued I listen to these prophets old,
Rebuked and helped without a word from man.
Now let me gather as I journey on,
The bitter and the sweet and live apart.
I also long to know the gentle art
Of helping others by a silent strength
I gather from the joy and pain of life.
Their might and beauty do not cow me down;
They gently shame and challenge me to prayer.
Our hearts are one in mystic fellowship,
God makes us brothers in the cosmic whole.