Poems

Waking world, you're awaiting this faith-filled prayer. Not a world "out there," your place is right where consciousness is dwelling.

Enough said. Enough read.

Let me raise up high no burnt sacrifice to God, but in joyful tribute ever exalt my waking thought— until it touches, yieldingly, the garment hem of Love. VERA H.

All-embracing arm of law Holds, Enfolds me In its care. No violence nor fear, No waste howling wilderness here To dim my eyes, To stay my God-led way.

It must have been a buoyancy beyond my comprehension that sent the Master calm and free across the Sea of Galilee. This buoyancy—dear, small degree- upholds my bold attention as I pursue my destiny and follow Christ above life's sea.

I am not experiment created once, and dropped into the maze of humanity, a journal kept of observations, aberrations, awaiting final judgment (success/ failure). God is present, perfect Love, loving me, creating me, keeping me, sustaining me, making me at present spiritual and perfect.

You stand before unknown waters with trembling heart? It isn't thus: that the sea part, then you step. No.

The doors slid shut, enclosing a packed capsule of humanity. Stomachs left behind we plummeted earthward.

My place is where God wants me to be. Not in self will But humility.

God remembered the man who built his ark of sturdy stuff, pitched against hate, windowed high for radiance, buoyed with faith to lift a world up. Noah remembered God— that Love who filled the earth the heaven the sea with splendid forms all benisoned with grace, now mercy-touched to calm assurance: refuge from the flood.