By Angela Morgan

When Nature wants to drill a man,

And thrill a man,

And skill a man.

When Nature wants to mould a man

To play the noblest part;

When she yearns with all her heart

To create so great and bold a man

That all the world shall praise –

Watch her method, watch her ways!

How she ruthlessly perfects

Whom she royally elects;

How she hammers him and hurts him,

And with mighty blows converts him

Into trial shapes of clay which only Nature understands

While his tortured heart is crying and he lifts beseeching hands!

How she bends, but never breaks,

When his good she undertakes. . . .

How she uses whom she chooses

And with every purpose fuses him,

By every art induces him

To try his splendour out –

Nature knows what she’s about.

When Nature wants to take a man,

And shake a man,

And wake a man;

When Nature wants to make a man

To do the Future’s will;

When she tries with all her skill

And she yearns with all her soul

To create him large and whole . . .

With what cunning she prepares him!

How she goads and never spares him,

How she whets him, and she frets him,

And in poverty begets him . . .

How she often disappoints

Whom she sacredly anoints,

With what wisdom she will hide him,

Never minding what betide him

Though his genius sob with slighting and his pride may not forget!

Bids him struggle harder yet.

Makes him lonely

So that only

God’s high messages shall reach him,

So that she may surely teach him

What the Hierarchy planned.

Though he may not understand,

Gives him passions to command.

How remorselessly she spurs him

With terrific ardour stirs him

When she poignantly prefers him

When Nature wants to name a man

And fame a man

And tame a man;

When Nature wants to shame a man

To do his heavenly best . . .

When she tries the highest test
That she reckoning may bring

When she wants a god or king!

How she reins him and restrains him

So his body scarce contains him

While she fires him

And inspires him!

Keeps him yearning, ever burning for a tantalizing goal –

Lures and lacerates his soul.

Sets a challenge for his spirit,

Draws it higher when he’s near it

Makes a jungle, that he clear it;

Makes a desert that he fear it

And subdue it if he can –

So doth Nature make a man.

Then, to test his spirit’s wrath

Hurls a mountain in his path

Puts a bitter choice before him

And relentlessly stands o’er him.

“Climb, or perish I” so she says. . . .

Watch her purpose, watch her ways!

Nature’s plan is wondrous kind

Could we understand her mind . . .

Fools are they who call her blind.

When his feet are torn and bleeding

Yet his spirit mounts unheeding,

All his higher powers speeding,

Blazing newer paths and fine;

When the force that is Divine

Leaps to challenge every failure and his ardour still is sweet

And love and hope are burning in the presence of defeat . . .

Lo, the crisis! Lo, the shout

That must call the leader out.

When the people need salvation

Doth he come to lead the nation. . . .

Then doth Nature show her plan

When the world has found – a MAN!


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