The Stundist in Siberian Exile AND OTHER POEMS, William Fetler, 1922

ar, that I had perished nearly. . . . 27 28 THE PRODIGAL'S CONFESSION The story of my wanderings Is full of revelry and wine— From life of shame to husks and swine, From pit to pit, where no one sings. For what they music call, and song. Is nothing but a noisy throng. There is no melody, no beauty Where passions rule, where sin is duty. The more I sinned, the less I sung, Until all music died in me; And dead as a bell that once was rung, But now untouched, I came to be. I know when love is pure and holy, I know when love is base and vile, They never both can live together, Though both be dressed in sweetest smile. The smile of love divine is chaste, It leaves behind no bitter taste ; It makes one young, it edifies, It never fails, it never dies. The counterfeit looks just like honey, But it is mixed with bitter gall; It is a purse—but lacking money ; A fire painted on the wall. Words without heart, an empty sound, And what it builds—falls to the ground. . . . THE PRODIGAL’S CONFESSION 29 Oh I why should any go away From father’s heart, from father’s cottage ? Yet I was such a fool as they Who sell their birthright for a pottage ! How little did I gain, indeed ; How much I lost, and still am loosing, Through this my foolish, sinful choosing ! How great my crime, how deep my need I Oh, let me rise I I will return To him whom I despised in madness ; Though he might meet me cold and stern, There will be purity and gladness. For there’s no joy that’s joy indeed. Unless it does begin aright; But if it does —though heart may bleed, There’ll be rejoicing soon in sight. Yes, I am through with seeking pleasure. I’m through with just myself enjoying | I’ve proved, and proved in fullest measure, That all this joy was my destroying. I’ve come to see that I was blind, The wilderness has changed my mind. This I have learnt through lessons sad : All joy is wrong that makes me bad; But pain, and solitude and grief. And even punishment and rod. Are things that bring me true relief If they but bring me nearer God. 30 THE PRODIGAL’S CONFESSION Now, not enjoyment will I seek, But what is useful, what is good : My efforts, though, be small and weak ! . . . My friends ! let it be understood. I’ve ceased to blunder, ceased to roam— I have returned—to stay at Home ! AllgHSt 22, 1918. THE RETURN OF THE BACKSLIDER 31 THE RETURN OF THE BACKSLIDER Thy backsliding child has returned to Thee, He repents of his going astray ! The Blood of Thy Cross—it was shed for me, The Law of the Spirit has made me free, And again I can praise Thee and pray. Thy banqueting-house is so full of light, And I was in darkness outside ! Thy banner of love has become my delight, But oh ! how cruel and cold is the night Of one who from Thee does backslide ! Thou cravest for love of the noblest type. Love undivided of heart; After many a struggle,