Poems

ELISHA saw an unseen host— "They that be with us are more Than they that be with them"—no boast, But trust, the armor that he wore. No battle took place.

[And no man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is called of God, as was Aaron. —Hebrews 5:4] Not in the babble of the common voice Not where a speech is turned to please the ear; Not where mere human judgment sways the choice, Not with self-pride or envy, nor with fear.

I let you go, not far away, but to the closest place I know: God's omnipresent care. I pray for more humility.

Does another's action seem unkind? Does the fruit of labor seem all rind? Does sickness forge chains with which to bind the body, making it the slave of mortal mind? Take courage! Love is very near and will provide the antidote to fear. For Love is All, and in the darkest hour this truth will prove to be a mighty tower of strength, till presently the power of Love reveals perfection; and as a flower unfolding expresses Life and Soul, so you will know the truth—that you are whole.

It is Christ men seek— The Lord's anointed one— As they honor Jesus, Mary's son. The heart imbued with love For God and man is sure To conceive and welcome In thought the pure, Holy, Christ-idea And cherish this new birth.

A certainty unscarred by pride Crowns surety with grace, Transcending callous stubbornness Where preconceptions trace Set patterns—limited designs— In narrow, trammeled space. At dawn no trumpet sound proclaims Clear certitude of light.

It took one peak of drying rock to land the ark. A single olive leaf was proof of risen ground, one branch enough to rest the dove.

Last night the autumn winds denuded trees whose burnished leaves had brought delight. For long I had been loath to see them go; I did not know they would expand my vision by their flight.

A quiet room, but on a busy street, a room apart, a place to go when sorrows beat upon the heart and find surcease from every human woe. But more, far more! We glimpse a glory here, behold as through an open door the path of Truth that climbs from sense to Soul.

When they were little children They often loved to go With their father down to the shore To watch, or play, or gather shells. If neighbors, calling, asked, "The children—where are they?" Serenely I could say, "They're with their father now, Doing the things they love to do.