Poems

Christly thoughts are like stars. When first they appear to the individual consciousness, they seem distant and indistinct; but as we continue steadfastly to behold them, they grow in beauty and number and order.

O voice of my Soul-filled thought. lake an octave within range of my performance, Make of it a simple melody, And spiral it outward.

"They say.

Now that the wild accusing throng had crept, Silenced by their own conscience, one by one Out of the temple precincts, and the loud Clamor of taunts was stilled, the accusers gone, She stood alone before this man who seemed Remote, absorbed in writing on the ground. She stood—forgetting time, and place, and fear, A strange, eternal peace had wrapped her round.

The night is black, the sea is wild, my craft is frail. The wind drives hard; I dare not use the dripping sail.

Sitting at Jesus' feet she heard his word. She, Mary, heard the word and understood, Had cars to hear the message of the Lord, And, hearing, knew the part she chose was good.

Be quiet, earth, and rest; be tranquil, still. Bow down, dissension, strife, hostility; Cease, mortal sense, to dream iniquity; Let all creation know God's holy will.

Jerusalem , that night, lay still and sober. enveloped in a heavy veil of gloom.

I would not lag content in dreams of sense. Nor mount too swift on lettered wing, And failing, fall, But steadfast dwell in Mind's calm sheltering— Safe in the power of omnipotence, Love round about, above, below.

Down with my pity! I will see but God. Loss cannot overtake my friend.