 Your family theater presents Jack Benny, Dan O'Hurleyhey and Rod O'Connor. Thank you Gene. We have an inspiring story on family theater this week. The story of a poet who shall live forever in human hearts because he was able to put into words powerful vital beautiful words the eternal story of man's flight from God. Dan O'Hurleyhey will play the role of Francis Thompson while Rod O'Connor will act as narrator in this drama of a poet and his poem. I fled him down the nights. Yes you fled him. You eluded him. I fled him down the nights and down the days. Yes you twisted turn tried to escape him but did you ever really escape him? Whether shall I go from thy spirit or whether shall I flee from thy face if I ascend up into heaven thou art there if I descend into hell. His name was Francis Thompson. Of all the lonely and obscure men who lived in London that year of 1887 none had made his bed in hell more surely than he. For him each night was a lying down and hunger in fear each morning a slow awakening to pain. Are you there? Get up. Get up I say. Yes you can't sleep here you know that. I know I know I'm sorry officer. Get along with you now come on get along with yourself. For Francis Thompson waking upon the Thames embankment each morning was a slow return to pain a remembrance of dreams twisted by hunger made hideous by fear dreams of delirium shot through with dying stars in the river's mist that always had their ending somewhere at the broken edge of the world with the night stick prodding his chest the agony of waking to another day and then as he would get to his feet brushing the dirt and matted leaves from his coat pulling it tight about him against the fog London too it seemed returned to life with the first cab in the street clopping by the first macro peddler crying his wares with the first farmers cart piled high with Surrey hay and the whistle of the Edinburgh Express coming down from the northern hills as he awoke London awoke with him and they faced each other at the beginning of the day the man of bone and flesh against the city of stone the man with a tired heart driving his broken knuckles against the stone which never yielded each day began as another a apony for a mug of tea tuppence for a stale loaf of bread a furtive search for an old rag a wadded newspaper to line his shoes and then the long tramp and search for work and so will there be a place for me sorry no work today would you be needing a man to maybe sorry sorry we have all the help we needed unemployment francis unemployment it's the scourge that can lash a man's spirit is a cross a contradiction of economies that hangs heavily upon the shoulders of people like you francis so you've got to keep walking keep searching maybe somewhere you'll find work you can't stop now to rest take a turn down this street now there through the crooked alley to the haberdasher shop sorry no work for you try the green grocer across the street sorry no work for you perhaps the wine shop try that sorry the warehouse the warehouse sorry no work for you yes francis the day is over the long cramping from door to door huddle there in the darkened doorway and take your rest there will be no bread for your hunger tonight no roof above your head there will be no drug to soothe the madness in your throat and brain lie on the doorway and take your rest for tomorrow's another day and if you live there'll be more miles to walk death comes slowly to the afflicted so you cannot hope for much tonight what's that a drum perhaps it could be the failing beat of your heart no no it's not that I I hear it often it it stops then it begins again your imagination no it sounds like footsteps as though someone were following me don't be silly try to rest no matter where I go I hear them they follow me always it's the drug francis you're craving for try to get through this night and perhaps tomorrow you'll find work and money and then you can buy it it's not the drug or my imagination they are footsteps and they follow me wherever I go I'm like a man with the hounds crying after him a hunter thing in a swamp I hear these footsteps night and day I hear them there there you hear them I hear a drum I hear my heartbeat wait it's footsteps all right someone's approaching the doorway you there are you all right I'm all right wait laddie you shouldn't be lying here in the doorway you'll catch your death the cold here let me help you up I'm all right I say all right I tell you laddie this is a bad night for a man's body and soul what right have you to talk about bodies and souls the right of one human being to another laddie well you can save your words I'm not interested ah maybe so laddie but there's a kind of lonely pride in your face that tells me you're you're a man fit for better things than lying in doorways look look my friend you mean well and for that I thank you but I'm sick I'm tired and I'm hungry oh lad I know you're sick I know you're alone that's why I'd like to help you what do you mean help I want you to come home with me my name's McMasters I'm a cobbler by trade and I can put you to work if you want a job work you'll owe me nothing lad nothing at all why should you do this for me why shouldn't I lad if the situation were reversed it's you who'd be reaching out your hand to me this way it's my good fortune here come along now lad it's a warm bed for you tonight and a good day's work in the morning how goes the work not so well mr. McMasters I'm afraid I don't think I was cut out for a cobbler you're just learning lad it's only three weeks you've been here tell me lad now I don't want to pray or anything but what what's your trade or profession I have none if I did I suppose you'd call it journalism you write them yes mr. McMasters what do you write Francis the usual thing I suppose reviews essays some poetry the sort of things that never sell here lad tray some of this tobacco it's an Irish mixture thanks huh lights now where did you go to school Francis you sure it's about four miles from Durham you were studying I wanted to enter the priesthood I failed I'm sorry it's strange when you come to think of it I'm 28 you know you think that in 28 years a man would be able to win to win one victory you think that but it isn't true after I was rejected for the priesthood my father sent me to Manchester to study medicine six years examinations every two years I failed all of them defeat for me was like a web I seem to be caught in it woven into its pattern after a while I became afraid to try anything at all for fear I'd I'd fail at it that's why I came to London to break the pattern no to lose myself to crawl into the darkest corner of the city and hide how long have you two years come November two years on the streets in doorways the way I fell no no not always I was a boot black for a time I worked for a bookseller I held horses sold matches I never kept any job long I spent most of my time in the library reading writing things that wouldn't sell only I had to write the laddie how could you do it how could you live you're not a fighter you weren't made to walk the streets and fight the city the way you've had to know it's a poet and a lover you are Francis I wonder how could you live how I don't know maybe it was because I prayed I'd say that only sometimes there was even no belief in my prayers and I felt as if I were not being heard you see living the way I did in in hunger the disordered nervous condition loneliness you can't think clearly sometimes you doubt your own mind's power to think and then then you can't pray right only I went on praying and I'm still alive that's all I know and God willing you'll stay alive Francis for you have a roof over your head now and a job and maybe time to write maybe time to write something great and good it will be pleasant to be able to say that Francis Thompson settled down to an ordered life and turned out a great work of literature but he rewarded his benefactor in some generous way but the facts are quite different Thompson was useless around the cobbler shop he was willing but clumsy and inefficient he scribbled verses when he should have been working and his few earnings were spent to satisfy the craving for opium which constantly tortured him he spent three months with McMasters then one day he disappeared McMasters waited for him to return that night he waited many nights as the autumn months passed into winter but Francis Thompson never came back of the many unfortunate McMasters had befriended and given jobs Thompson alone proved a disappointment he was my only failure McMasters wrote he was my only failure here you where do you think you're going stay away from that church there's other places for trams I wasn't going drunk dirty going to crawl into the church where it's warm me thought no one to see you go on get on your way the church yes get along I say yes that's where I can go yeah you you come along with me I'll take you to a place where Christ of mercy upon me the Lord have mercy upon you Francis Thompson have mercy upon your weakness and failures have mercy through you on all the poor and broken who walk in the city streets help us all oh god from the city itself from the cruelty of stone and the horror of the pavement defend me oh god from the arms house and prison from the makeshift bed in the doorway defend me oh god from hunger in the day and wakefulness at night from the torn coat and the broken shoes and the stairs are pity and the stairs of contempt deliver me oh god from the man whose hand is against us from his anger in his clenched fist from the sudden blow against the mouth deliver me oh god and give us this day our daily bread give me this day my daily bread but more than the bread alone oh god give us the strength to earn our bread hear me oh god Christ have mercy on us Christ have mercy on me to go Francis the church is empty the sexton is putting out the candles one by one I cannot go if I leave I forget how to pray you must wear somewhere the doorway perhaps there's that green warehouse and cock lane if you could force a window the rats there's always the embankment it's snowing then what I don't know perhaps this is the end of all my running death death comes slowly to the afflicted but not to me a loaf of bread a mug of coffee in three or is it four days the dizzy spells fever it can't be far off now even to me do you want to die do I want to live this way do you not know Francis that while you live your body is the temple of god god doesn't live in me god is perfection and health and beauty can god live in a broken body and a mind that doubts its own reason now I lost god sometime after I left the cobbler shop I lost him somewhere in the alleys of east cheap but has god lost you Francis what has he lost you but if I deny him how can he find me listen do you hear that the footsteps the footsteps of the howl do you remember Francis footsteps yes yes they always follow me but there's something inside me oh god forgive me some fear some dread that keeps me running from those footsteps it's nothing I how long have I been three days you were running along the street oh yes I remember now and you were the girl that I brought you here to this boarding house but I tried to find out who you were what your name was but there was nothing in your pockets to identify you except this book it had Francis Thompson written inside yes I didn't know where you lived if I it doesn't matter I have no home I've been sleeping outside on the embankment anywhere I'm afraid I put you to a lot of trouble I think I'd better go but you can't you're sick the doctor said you must rest and eat he said you were dying from starvation you called a doctor I had to but but that cost money I I've nothing to pay you say it what's your name Ann who are you I mean what sort of work do you do oh nothing very much nothing important I didn't mean to pry I just wondered yes maybe maybe you haven't done anything important as you say I don't know who you are what you are but I've been wandering across a plane of fever and delirium three days you tell me dreams came up like clouds over those three days but in the end it seemed that I heard footsteps behind me they were after me and I ran and ran and far in the edge of a plane I saw a cross standing and I thought if I can reach that cross I'd be safe so I ran toward it only when I got there it wasn't a cross it was you do you understand you mean that you don't care what I am no no I only wonder what I can ever do for you in return and so once again through the kindness of another stranger this time an outcast much like himself the healing of Francis Thompson began to him this girl gave her the little she had food clothing encouragement but more than that an ease from loneliness to her he gave things unknown in her life tenderness and reverence and respect and then at last Francis Thompson began to write passion of Mary a poem paganism old and new an essay two things finished actually finished it's hard to believe that I had the power the sheer mental power to work them through Francis Thompson was right his work was good and Wilfred Maynell editor the magazine Mary England published the pieces sought out the author and extended to him the hand which would lift him from obscurity but Francis Thompson about to reach for the hand suddenly would drill himself what about Anne Anne I sold them to Mr Maynell and and Anne he's interested in me he wants me to come and live with him to do my work at his home mean he wants us us yes you see I told him we were to be married and that I would come only if you were with me no I want you to marry me and don't you understand yes I understand but you you're a great writer and you've got the chance now to get away from this away from the streets and be with people of your own kind no Francis I won't marry you but why you're not talking sense and why I'm not worthy of you Francis you know that you're great and good I might only hurt you I might keep you from it's it's been good what we've had together Francis but you'll have to go on alone now you'll have to go on and so the girl who had lifted him from the streets vanished from his life all that day he searched for her all the next and the next but she disappeared he turned away from the extended hand of Maynell in his search for her and days passed into weeks weeks into a month then two months as he tramped the mighty labyrinths of London but he never found her among the millions of faces he looked into none was hers and then at last one day sitting on a bench in Covent Garden barren from the grief that had drained him he heard the familiar sound of footsteps Francis yes she's gone you'll never find it again I know and now there's nothing left nothing but the footsteps do you hear them I hear them think back Francis isn't it strange how each time you've cried each time the horror of life has risen up to crush you you heard the footsteps yes each time I've lost the sense of God I've heard them only in those times I would begin to hear them faintly and my faith grew weaker and my prayers and then at last when I had lost the sense of God they beat like thunder in my ears as they are beating now yes and as they beat the night and came to you yes and the night McMaster's father yes yes what are you driving at don't you know think Francis think is it possible you could touch God by the hand and not know it the hound of heaven the footsteps of God in Charing Cross no matter where I fled they followed down the nights and days the twisted lanes and passageways of all London down the years and months and days they followed God's love pressing in on me when I denied him God's love hounding me through the swamps of despair God wouldn't let me go even though I had denied him God looking at me out of her eyes and touching me with her hands yes I know now I know these footsteps then search out your soul Francis and put what you find into words all the hunger and pain and loneliness of these tortured years right at Francis I fled him down the nights and down the days I fled him down the arches of the years I fled him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind and in the midst of tears I hid from him right it for all to read Francis for the poor the beaten the hungry the tempted the weak for those like you all over the world I hid from him from those strong feet that followed followed after but with unhurrying chase and unperturbed pace deliberate speed majestic instancy they beat and a voice beat more instant than the feet all things betray the who betrays me put into words the streets and the sleepless nights the cold sweats and the agony of thought put Anne into them for you will never find her again and McMasters and put the losing of God into words the awful loneliness father I knew his love who followed yet I was sore a dread lest having him I might have not beside and Francis put into words the joy that came when God had found you once again and past those noisy feet a voice comes yet more fleet a fondest blindest weakest I am he whom thou seekest yes put all this into words Francis that others may draw courage from them and find their way to peace for it is you Francis Thompson who went down to make a bed in hell but found God's love and mercy following you even there a fondest blindest weakest I am he whom thou seekest and so Francis Thompson who today ranks among the great poets went on to build a new life for himself aided by the kindness of the Maynell family went on to complete the hound of heaven and give the world one of the most inspiring poems of all literature the story of God's love and mercy thank you Dan O'Hurley and Rod O'Connor for your fine performances we have family theater been proud to present this story of a man and his conscience and his God now that may sound strange coming from me like the hundreds of guests who've appeared on family theater I spend most of my time trying to make people laugh trying to make them take their minds off themselves that isn't enough to make them happy sooner or later people have to stop laughing and start thinking they have to put their minds on themselves they have to reflect yes reflect on how each of us is lost unless we have faith and hope and a God to whom we can bring our troubles and pray for help that's the reason for family theater just a weekly reminder that all of us and especially our families need God and should pray to him if you've been neglecting prayer why not start today with your family about you in the circle of your home find out for yourself that the family that prays together stays together more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of family theater has brought you Dan O'Hurley and Rod O'Connor in the Hound of Heaven with Jack Benny as your host our play was written by Frederick Lipp with music by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for family theater by Jaime Del Valle other members of our cast with Jane Avello Eric Snowden Ben Wright, Tudor Owen and Jeanette Nolan this series of family theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who have felt the need for this type of program and by the mutual network which has responded to this need this is Gene Baker inviting you to be with us next week at the same time when Branch Rickey will introduce Eddie Bracken and Cappy O'Donnell in The Sculpt join us won't you? Name from Hollywood hear the dramatic story of the Allen family on against the storm over most of these stations every weekday yes for big-time daytime drama it's against the storm every weekday this is the mutual broadcasting system