The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 8
"Light, Lord, more Light!" cried Goethe as he lay
Calmly awaiting the approach of Death—
Himself a Light, yet with his latest breath
Asking for light, light of a purer ray.
So we for "Light, more Light!" should ever pray;
Not merely live to grope about like moles,
But act as creatures having eyes and souls,
And seek a brighter intellectual day.
Oh! let us, then, we of the present age,
Strive to make mind triumphant over might,
To realise the wishes of the Sage,
And out of mental darkness call up Light.
Truth must shine forth, fell wrong, dark error fly,
If "Light, more Light!" be still our constant cry.
What is Free Thought?
It is the offering up to God
The purest thoughts of mind,
The lifting up of Reason's veil,
Not letting her go blind:
Blind to the truths of this our day,
The land-marks of our ago—
Inspired by God in man's deep heart,
And writ on Nature's page :
Truths freed from Superstition's sway,
And from the damning knell
That tells of God's avenging wrath—
A never-ending Hell.
See, Earth yields up her boundless wealth,
Yon Stars their tale unfold,
And nightly speak of wondrous love
That never waxeth cold :
But bright and brighter ever shines,
And ever warmer grows,
And clasps us in its fond embrace
To still our heart's deep throes:
Throes fostered there by priestly craft
To keep us in its power;
At length we break the unholy spell,
And live in Heaven's own bower :
Heaven's bower surrounded by the flowers
Of God's own love and truth,
And where from age to age they'll bloom
In an eternal youth.
G. F. J.