Intermediary by Ella Wheeler Wilcox — Read

When from the prison of its body free, / My soul shall soar, before it goes to Thee, / Thou great Creator, give it power to know / The language of all sad, dumb things below. / And let me dwell a season still on earth / Before I rise to some diviner birth: / Invisible to men, yet seen and heard, / And understood by sorrowing beast and bird- / Invisible to men, yet always near, / To whisper counsel in the human ear: / And with a spell to stay the hunter's hand / And stir his heart to know and understand; / To plant within the dull or thoughtless mind / The great religious impulse to be kind.

Before I prune my spirit wings and rise / To seek my loved ones in their paradise, / Yea! even before I hasten on to see / That lost child's face, so like a dream to me, / I would be given this intermediate role, / And carry comfort to each poor, dumb soul: / And bridge man's gulf of cruelty and sin / By understanding of his lower kin. / 'Twixt weary driver and the straining steed / On wings of mercy would my spirit speed. / And each should know, before his journey's end, / That in the other dwelt a loving friend. / From zoo and jungle, and from cage and stall, / I would translate each inarticulate call, / Each pleading look, each frenzied act and cry, / And tell the story to each passer-by; / And of a spirit's privilege possessed, / Pursue indifference to its couch of rest, / And whisper in its ear until in awe / It woke and knew God's all-embracing law / Of Universal Life-the One in All.