Songs of the Soul
Poems of Prayer and Praise
by S. M. Hillis
I.
O come, thou wretched soul of mine and sing,
Unburdened by the heavy chains of care.
O raise thine humble cantacle in prayer
And praising of thy Christ, thy Love, thy King!
Seek not to fetter that which must take wing
And fly as fleet and sure as eagles dare.
Seek not to stem the flow of music fair,
Which from thy lips resoundingly should ring!
For though thou art but lately fallen prone
With sores and wounded deep with mortal pain,
And though thy voice doth crack from thirst, yet still
Thou must unearth that treasure which was sown
In thee by God and let it grow again,
And to this work thou must commit thy will.
II.
My soul, I sing to thee as to a child
Who seeketh peace amid a world of pain.
I seek to soothe and salve thy wounds, and gain
For thee the healing thou dost need. Beguiled
And cheated hast thou been by all the wild
And roaring passions which by force do reign
Amidst thy halls as unfit lords. Insane,
They rant and rage, and have thy bliss defiled.
As bard I sit, and softly I do sing
To find for thee release from all this woe,
And to restore again thy queenly state.
I tell thee oft that there is but one King
Who must be welcomed in, and thou wilt know,
When He is come, thy true and faithful Mate.
III.
My soul, seek not thy Love among the dead,
Though thou hast known the bitter pangs of grief
For one now lost to thee, who with his brief
And burning touch to thee his spirit wed,
And caused thy feet to follow where he led,
To find a place where ye would find relief
From all the cares of mortal life. Though chief
He was to thee, his beauty now hath fled.
Yet One there is more worthy of thy love,
One greater, higher, mightier by far
Than any merely mortal man could be,
His touch will never cool, nor death remove
Him from thy side, nor time His beauty mar,
So love Him now, as Christ so loveth thee.
IV.
Thou languishest, my soul, in deadly case,
As broken, bruised and bleeding thou dost lie,
Though thou dost think thyself both whole and high,
And seekest for thyself a lofty place.
In bartering the true and sovereign grace
Of God for godlike freedom, thou didst buy
Instead the pains of death, although to die
Was not the doom first laid upon our race.
Yet healing thou shalt find if thou wilt raise
Thy voice to Christ and ask His holy aid,
And He shall take thee even as thou art
And teach thee how to leap and dance in praise
Of Him by whom all things were solely made,
And never more will death pervade thy heart.
V.
Oh whither wilt thou go, my soul, to seek
The one whom thou hast lost? How long
Wilt thou a rover be? Art thou so strong
That thou canst walk unbowed and not made weak
By heat of day or dark of night? Oh speak,
If thou hast aught to say, or raise thy song
Unto the open sky, and join the throng
Of those who shout until their voices break.
The One thou seekest seekest yet for thee,
If thou wilt tarry here upon the road,
For 'tis thy seeking calling Him to come
And find thee wheresoe're thou mayest be.
Be still, therefore! Lay down thy heavy load,
And Christ will be thy guest and thus thy home.
VI.
My soul, I charge thee now that thou shouldst tell
Of all thy weary, way-worn journeys long
The outcast exiles of the earthh among
In seeking for the True and Living Well.
What pathless wastes through fens and forests fell
Hast thou with stumbling step and sighing song
So trod that thou hast lost thyself in wrong
And wretched ways? Again I charge thee, tell!
Thy pride, thy wrath, thy solitary pain
To thee did seem the highest height of joy,
At least a while, but then all melted into air.
Those fleeting cheats have bound thee with a chain
That only Christ's true glory can destroy.
Confess thyself in need of all His care!
VII.
Seek now, my soul, what being sought within
The ebb and flow of time is never found,
For though to mortal rhythms thou art bound,
Eternity is thine to lose or win.
Though pierced by passion's pangs, though scorched by sin,
Yet canst thou be made whole and rendered sound,
While tempest-tossed amid this earthly round
Of days and nights, if thou canst but begin.
For He who is thy home came here to dwell.
Eternity became a mortal thing.
He came to free thee from thy dreadful fall.
The gate is gone, the flaming sword as well,
Since came the Son of God, the Word, the King
Of Kings. Seek Him, my soul, and heed his call!
VIII.
The sea doth set thy course, my soul, if thou
No sail dost use to tame the warlike winds
Of hope and fear which drive unguarded minds
To seek what they would have, they know not how.
Thy rudder true must be, and so endow
Thy craft with force to fight the flood which binds
All souls in clinging cold its frenzy finds
Unhelped, unwatched, unwarded. Haste thee now!
One Star there is to guide thee on thy way,
One Light to keep thee from the deadly shoal
Of apathy and heart-sick, dull despair.
So stir thyself and seek without delay
The haven bright which is thy truest goal,
And thou shalt lay aside all grief and care.
IX.
What cometh now to thee, my soul, while rapt
In musings many thou dost stand at gaze?
How canst thou tear thyself fromout the daze
And dizzied dance of care which hath thee trapped?
How canst thou fly when all thy strength is sapped
By worries which can dim the very rays
Of Heaven when thine eye, ungoverned, strays
To follow phantom fears in sorrow lapped?
Desire, if fixed upon its proper end,
Will break the chains of earthly care and fear
If but thine arrow's aim be sure and true.
Thy love must speed, thy will must ever bend
Thy stumbling steps toward the fountain clear
And to the One who can thy strength renew.
X.
As doth the hunter-driven hart still need
The waters when he is o'erwhelmed by thirst,
Though hound and horse pursue him at their worst,
And drinking, he might die if once he bleed;
So doth my saddened soul, though feind-chased, feed
On Christ, Who is Himself her Food, though cursed
He was by by those whom He had kindly nursed
And tried from pain to paradise to lead.
But if I bend my soul's poor head to sip
At that clear fount of immortality,
Although the hunters hurry on apace,
Yet not the swiftest dart will ever slip
From demon's bow to then assail me,
For then my soul is safe in His embrace.
XI.
To dwell in time, my soul, is not for thee,
For though it seem firm-founded, yet to fall
Will surely be the fate to those in thrall
To that which hath not immortality.
The perishing will e'er thy ruin be,
Deceiving with its deadly siren's call,
And casting o'er thy beauty clear its pall
Which dimmeth what thine eyes should rightly see.
Yet time is not a thing without true worth,
If thou but canst subdue it to thy feet,
And make of it a sure and steadfast way.
Let Him who trampled death supply thy dearth,
And thou wilt bend thy steps both sure and fleet,
For time will lead them to eternity.
XII.
Two paths there are, my soul, to perfect peace
And purity of heart if thou wilt run
Their dual course to where they meet as one,
For both must be thy lot till thy release.
To prayer for mercy which doth never cease
As well as to the praise of Him whom none
Can match for beauty, Him Whose wisdom spun
The stars, the earth and thee from bliss's fleece;
These twin desires must be in thee combined
If thou wouldst shun despondency and pride
To seek the royal way to Heaven's gate.
For prayer for aid without God's praise entwined
Doth court despair, while praise alone can hide
Thy wounds from thee, and so make Hell thy fate.
XIII.
Thy tears, my soul, a broken, brilliant fount
From sorrow sprung that spilleth into joy,
O'erwhelm the heart and yet do not destroy,
But lend it wings that it might swiftly mount
Above the snares too many far to count
That lie in wait to catch thee and to cloy
Thy freedom's purity with practiced ploy
Of those who would thy grief turn to account.
For though their numbers far outrun the sea
For salty deeps, my soul, do not despair!
Those drops will drown the demons! Do but call
On Christ, who turneth tears to jewels most rare
Which burnish brightly even as they fall.
XIV.
The seed must fall to earth and be enclosed
In clay, my soul, and thou must ward it well,
Though not by endless pruning to compel
Its blooming must thy business be disposed,
Nor to the paltry plans thou hast proposed,
Lest changing it thou findest fruit of hell
instead of holiness, then that which fell
Will be to beauty's bliss a thing opposed.
Thy task in tending of this golden seed
Is but to rise and sleep again each day,
And water thy heart's garden with thy tears.
And if thou wilt be watchful, then indeed
A tree of life will spring where death once lay
And love will win the war against thy fears.
XV.
Come now, my weary soul, be not dismayed,
Nor let thy light be dimmed by dark despair.
Though burdened by the weight of care on care,
Thy feeblest cry can summon mighty aid.
Though all things mortal have thy love betrayed
And caused thy grief by parishing, though fair
Things find but death, only declare
Thy sorrow, and thy joy will never fade.
For here, 'mid mortal mud, is not thy home.
To parish is not part of thy design.
Thou art a deathless, adamantine thing.
So use thine earthly pilgrimage to come,
Small step by step, unto thy home divine
By following thy Love, thy Lord, thy King!
XVI.
To green heart's ground made hot and dry with drout
And furnace-fired by dim desires and dreams
Of dying things, so that it teems
With life unbound is what Christ is about
With thee, my soul, if thou wilt put thy doubt
And dread aside of His bright burning beams
Of truth unworn by time. For by those gleams
We see What must be planted and plucked out.
A turning and a changing of the mind
And heart is what He ever calls us to,
That hearts of flesh may come from hearts of stone.
And though we must unto our shoulders bind
The cross and lift it every day anew,
Yet in that journey we are not alone.
XVII.
Thou dost exist, my soul, in freedom fair,
Yet by that freedom art thou truly bound,
For thou didst freely flee from joy profound
To seek in fleeting fancie cure for care.
No earthly flame, however bright it flare,
Can be to thee a lamp to light the ground
Before thy feet, for though it seemeth sound,
Yet darkness drowneth it all unaware.
A Light there is which thou shalt surely find
That will not wane though darkness do its best
To dim by doubt its dazzling beauty's beams.
Thy steps must thou but bend till far behind
Doth lie the land of sunset in the west
To journey to where dwell undying dreams.
Last added to in 2023.