Poems (Argent)/Father Damien

by Alice Emily Argent

FATHER DAMIEN.  "I was sick and ye visited me."

     HERO and saint!
I know no nobler titles upon earth
 Good Father Damien, than these of thine,
The whole world gives thee for thine own true worth,
 Thy sacrifice of self at suffering's shrine.
Half human, more divine thy name shall stand,
Woven in gold to stretch from land to land.

        Hero and saint!
Moving in solemn grandeur through the isle
 Of deathly sickness crowned by lulling seas,
A sky that wears a sweet alluring smile
 Caught from the shores of some Hesperides.
For nature in her fairest garb of light
Decks the bright land that groans beneath the blight.

        Hero and saint!
In that thou ministered and gave thy best
 To each poor leper that had need of thee,
Who loved thee for the word that spoke of rest
 Beyond the margin of time's surging sea.
Gladly thy life was given as His of old,
Gladly laid down, the shepherd for his fold.

        Hero and saint!
Thy spirit, like Elijah's mantle, falls
 On others following in thy steps below,
And 'cross far shores thy voice persuasive calls
 For other helpers that the seed may grow,
Which thou first scattered lavishly and free
In the loved cause that found its head in thee.

        Hero and saint!
The world is better having known thy name,
 And nobler for thy pure unselfish deeds,
For with no pomp the hero leper came,
 But humbly ministering to others' needs.
Those patient feet on mercy ever bent,
That Christlike soul a living sacrament!

        Hero and saint!
Wooing no trumpet blast as one who fights
 And shouts for triumph in a victory great,
But silently in midst of loathsome sights
 Took up the cross, nor shuddered at its weight.
Although death menaced with a leprous doom
That chosen pathway leading to the tomb.

        Hero and saint!
Whate'er thy creed 'tis not for us to say,
 The right or false, the wrong or better part,
Nought can obliterate the glorious ray
 Of a good life and deep religious heart.
Both consecrate unto the highest good
Of human suffering, human brotherhood.

        Hero and saint!
God rest thy soul! the spot which holds thy grave
 Is sacred to all nations,—far and wide:
Thy works shall follow thee beyond the wave;
 For nobly, father, hast thou lived and died.
No brighter crown in heaven, methinks, will shine,
Nor sweeter harp be heard than that of thine!