Poems

The power that healed the hand of Moses And turned the water into wine, That gave new feet to crippled beggars— Such power can only be divine. The power that saved the Hebrew captives, And Daniel in the lions' den, That led all Israel out of bondage, Today can heal the woes of men.

" Study to shew thyself approved. " Dear Father, let me learn The gentle ministry of Life And Love.

Grace is expressed in every lifting wing, In arching step of fawn through brookside ferns, In curve of ocean wave with upward fling, And in the lilt of words a poet turns. But grace of thought is much more beautiful And meaningful than simple rhythmic sway; It shines out in the spirit's miracle— A heart that sings upon a cloudy day.

This dark and barren place is Bethel, where Jacob came at sunset and placed himself a pillow of stone. Here each must face alone his troubled thinking, sin, and sad regret; at Bethel men must conquer false belief, and each will weep over his erring footsteps; repentance at Bethel is deep.

What can you lack today, with plenteousness? Shall not the law of Love's supply express The same abundancy for you as when The Master fed five thousand hungering men? What do you fear today when only good Enfolds you in God's father-motherhood? Shall not the Christ that stilled the wind-tossed sea Calm your false fears with Love's sufficiency? Love, the unchanging, knows nor time nor place, And heaven is in your consciousness, not space. Live, then, in heaven and see material sense Fade like a dream before omnipotence.

Gone ? Out of sight? But where, O hearts that grieve and yearn? No place to turn outside Love's atmosphere. No lonely, distant "there" On resurrection morn.

" Thy will be done," we gladly pray, And there the yearning heart can rest, Knowing that He in whom we trust Will give us all we need today. "Thy will be done.

Then Balak, King of Moab, filled with fear, Sent messengers to Balaam, asking aid And begging him to use his mighty power To help destroy the Israelites. The seer Must well have known that man whom God hath made Is always safe and never needs to cower In doubt and fear.

The night how dark! Helpless the little ship To battle winds that pounded like a flail. Against the tide, the toiling oars, how frail As sense of storm intensified its grip! Impotent human courage to prevail, To stanch their fear, till the disciples saw And knew the truth, then watched with joyous awe As Jesus walked the water, stilled the gale.

Give thanks for open thought: for open hands Outstretched to feed the hungry, sow the seed; For open hearts, attuned to hear the call And speak the word that points the open way; For open eyes, which penetrate the veil And see with vision clear the perfect man; For open doors, which bid us pause and read The open books that all may understand; For open meetings, where, with lips unsealed, We tell our friends how Truth has made us free; But most, give thanks for Love, the open fount, Unfailing source of every open thought.