Poems

In truth there is no aristocracy; Or rather we are princes, all of us. Each one is wholly perfect, pure, and free, The child of God, for truly none are lost; No one is hopeless or superfluous.

Oh , circulate the messages of Mind Through living proof that man's complete and whole. Receive your good from God, its source, And send it forth again To heal, to nourish and console The hearts of men.

Frail wings in the nest Newly freed From the round dark Have the seed Of flight And have the need Of quest And the might To lift the lark. Just so Small hopes nesting in the heart Must grow And prove their worth— Their pinioned part— In lifting thought Above the earth When freedom must be sought.

Behind the patterns of light on rock, where shifting leaf-shapes capture gleams of shining sky, I see Thy face. Above the bird song and the branches' sigh, where tiny wings make quick heartbeats to soar on high, I hear Thy voice.

This day, untouched by sense of time In Life's irradiancy. This place, unseen to mortal eye, In Love's security.

No path is dark, with Love to walk beside me; No way is dim or filled with doubt and fear. The radiancy of Truth, forever streaming, Lights all the view before me, far and near.

Now has Truth's precious seed been sown; Let it not lie untended there. Uproot the thorn, remove the stone, Cherish the waking thought in prayer.

" Were there not ten cleansed?" Jesus asked, when one alone returned to render thanks. "Where are the nine?" Why did they not return to praise God for His wondrous work? Was it perhaps timidity or pride? We do not know.

We find in Truth the life-preserving power. It coexists with loving force which heals.

Fret not through darkened hours of night when sleep eludes. Be grateful, rather, for a quiet time to be alone with God; To say to mortal sense, "Be still," And know that Love is ever present and that good is All.