Sinless in my action, loyal to my word ;
When my richer brethren scorn and pass me by,
Perchance they are outcast even more than I. Teach me that the sunlight still belongs to me.
Keep my hands unsoiled and my spirit free ;
In the verdant pastures, under starry skies
If I have to wander, make it Paradise. Bruised and sore and outcast, let my manhood be
Over all triumphant for the world to see
That though fate has kicked me, under cloud and ban
Homeless, broken wanderer, I am still a man. Lonely ? May I hear the music of the far Outback,
Spirit forms and faces meet me on track;
Pangs of hunger suffering, still from day to day
Give me needful bounty, where and when I may. When they call me hobo, they who sit in ease,
Make me not grow bitter, make me one who sees
One day all things levelled, all wrong things made right.
Where the Judge Is Mercy, finite, infinite. Bowen ELSIE KEMP. Notes From the Queensland Newspaper The Townsville Daily Bulletin 17 Sep 1932 p. 15.