p. 3 | Recalled from Dust by Mabel Corine Craker

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · May 25, 1915

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 42, No. 21.

Recalled from Dust

By Mabel Corine Craker

By MABEL CORINE CRAKER

Some men select with pride the paths that yield The greatest influx of earth's shining gold. Their hopes attained, great power can they wield; Yet Death within his robes their forms will fold. Some others crave that Fame with mystic touch Their names will place upon some height renowned. Still yearning for a higher cliff to clutch, To dust their souls return, though honor crowned. And others trip o'er paths with flowers strewn. Infused with pleasure, and to fashion wed, Their days are spent. Departing at life's noon, They, too, are numbered with the passing dead.

The toilers at the mill, the herdsmen lone, The plowmen severing the hardened clods, The woodmen by whose skill huge timbers groan, The weary ones who bear the weighty hods, And those who guide the liners o'er the deep That forms a highway for each race and tribe, The mother whose low song induces sleep, And play-worn thoughts away to dreamland glide, The prisoner who long in anguish lies, The dancing maid whose agile motions lure, The villain who malicious poison gives, The man of morals, and the Christian pure,— Each, all, ere long, to ashen dust return; And we who gaze upon their sunken mounds, Propound the question ages-frayed and stern, “Are bare six feet of earth men's final bounds?”

Did Christ, the great Creator, make of dust A being who could laud His praises o'er, A creature who upon his God should trust, And yet that God, unmindful, lock the door, And keep him in Death's chamber dark and cold? Ah, no! 'Tis Christ that owns the master key. No somber tomb its righteous dust can hold When He in glory comes to set men free. The modulations of His mighty voice With power charged, by fervent love installed, New life impart. The risen saints rejoice. Theirs that immortal thrill — from dust recalled!