HYMN Of Health
A physician to whom I once explained my theories, heard me for some minutes and
then he said "Well, and so you want to create healthy blood in this way?" "Yes,
surely," I replied. "We have no use for that," he callously exclaimed, "there would
be no business in that."
Hence Mankind must degenerate and Disease of all kinds ride rampant
through the land, rather than upset the firmly rooted fallacies of the past or foil the ghoul-like
greed of a certain set of conscienceless practitioners.
To the first of these the terse old Latin satire would apply:
"Homine imperito nunquam quidquam injustius Qui, nisi quod ipse fecit, nihil rectum putat."
(Terentius.)
"Who is there so unreasoning as he, that learned drone,
Who reckons nothing perfect save what he himself hath known."
(M.B.)
To the second let an outraged public reply.
But meanwhile, as the hideous holocaust proceeds, the mills of God grind slowly
but mysteriously secure. The eternal law of equity is working still; and from every
evil there proceeds a good.
Truth may be hidden in the nether deeps, but some day
the strained tension breaks, the balance reversing brings it to the light. Its spirit
works for ever, like a ferment, hidden long, deep down in the Universal heart of
things; for with majestic, unimpressionable tread, sublimely the silent force of
human progress moves; slow and inevitably sure, the great indwelling spirit of a
vast eternal energy leading man ever upward to the True and Best.
Against this axiom, alas, graceless and suicidal seems the unwisdom of the world,
in action against all who offer it salvation from its pain; aye, though he be Christ or
Commoner.
Rather be wrong in league with wealth and power than be right—and stand alone.
This is now the worldly wisdom of the sage.
Genius at grips with material and religious power, fares ill; as with far-famed
Copernicus, or "starry Galileo and his woes"; or, in a brave woman's daring
words:—"He, who dares to see a truth not recognized in creeds, must die the
death."
"A time of transition is a time of pain," is a truism well recognized by all, and he
who would press Regeneration upon the world—weak, weary and unthinking as its
people are—must run the gauntlet of the bitter antagonism of the exploiting clans
on this benighted sphere, though later he may see, across the bourne that bounds
life's earthly day, a stately monument, perchance, by gratitude upreared, where
pious crowds pay tribute to his name.
HYMN OF HEALTH
(From the Greek)
Health, thou most frangible of heaven's dower,
With thee may what remains of life be spent;
Cease not upon me, thus, thy gifts to shower,
And in my soul to find a tenement.
For what is there of beauty, wealth or power,
Of gentle offspring, or the wiles of love,
But owes its solace, sweet, in every hour,
To thee, thou regent of the powers above.
The spring of pleasure blooms if thou but bless,
And every step upon the Autumn way
Is lit by thee, parent of happiness!
Without thee sadly sounds life's roundelay.
(M.B.)
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