Poems

Dear Father, give me the wisdom To help those who come to me, Seeking Thee. Rightly distributing the truth In deepest humility.

Our Father, God, we pray for guidance Over devious ways that we must tread; Like those of old in their wilderness journey May we be led. Dear Mother, Love, we yearn for comfort; Fold us close in a warm embrace.

And with the dawn came Mary, In grief's deep anguish bound, To seek her Lord in death's dark tomb Where Life is never found. Through tears she saw the gardener And, hopeful, sought his aid To find the place, the hidden place, Where Jesus might be laid.

Late and early, It matters not to me; Late and early, Unto eternity; The loveliness of loving, The purity of Soul, Unfolds before my vision To make a perfect whole. Late and early, Ah, never let me stray To wider paths alluring That beckon me away.

The mirror on the wall does not reveal Identity. The human faces seen Within the fragile looking glass conceal The perfect man-inviolate, serene.

Law-bred, law-supported—order. But watch the subtle robot hoarder of words, the counterfeit—routine— building its cumbersome machine.

Two men went up to the temple About the hour of prayer; One spoke to his heavenly Father, One to the ambient air. Two men came back from the temple, And each had what he sought: One stood absolved in God's clear sight, And one in his own proud thought.

Poor little black sheep? What little black sheep? I who see all from above, I who neither slumber nor sleep— Shall any escape from My love? No little black sheep. No little lost sheep.

Impossible —so the disciples thought— To feed the hungry thousands waiting there! Five loaves and two small fishes were as naught, Even among themselves, much less to share With all the others. Only Jesus knew They were enough for everyone, and more.

Be still, O restless heart, be still; O yield all sense of hurt and woe. Lay down your burden of self-will; "Be still, and know.