Poems

I was weary and lost in the seeming night. Unto my path Thou gavest light.

It cannot be that the heart's glad notes are stilled; That apathy has muted pure desire. The voice that tuned the music of the spheres Will waken, guide, illumine, and inspire.

Only the pure in heart can sing the song That heals bewildered thought, that solves a wrong. While mortals chant their praise to things—mere things— And strum unskillful sounds on lifeless strings, The harmonies of Spirit hour by hour Reveal themselves as peace and skill and power.

This scientific word, so new, so old; My study of this truth has just begun. Though I know little and can scarce behold The vaguest outline of the path ahead, I see myself as God's beloved son, While happiness and healing fill my heart.

Evil will try to gain its fullest measure Of false dominion in the world of men, Promising to the eye, the ear, its pleasure, Making assaults again and yet again. Yet men need never fear base evil's legions When armed by Truth and Love, which conquer all; Guarded by angels, safe in loftier regions, Man's higher selfhood, stainless, cannot fall.

In Mind there is no deafened faculty. But sometimes we build soundproof walls within The heart—the stigma of heredity, The scar of accident, the stain of sin.

O sacred sanctuary In which we dwell, No exodus nor end Can mark thy terminal. Boundless the realm Wherein the angels sing Their heavenly symphony.

Dear Father, mold my life to Thine; With Christlike purity endow This heart. In humble penitence I pray to know at-one-ment now.

When the living Christ shall dawn in thought With all the brilliance of a risen day Upon the sky line of expectancy, Then shall we find the image that we sought, The likeness of his universal worth, The vision of his normal loveliness Unclouded by the dark and dreaming earth; And we shall find this beauty in ourselves. We shall be part of Love's eternity Each one, a witness to the timeless hour, Unblemished like the nimbus of a flower That cannot fade.

As migrant bird unerringly Wings through uncharted sky, Nor falters once, its distant goal Revealed instinctively, So we can trust the power that guides The bird, sure-winged, on high, To chart our course and light our path, Not asking how or why. Our Father knows.