Poems

Arc describing the earth in color, Span the day. Your beauty tells us mists of error Cannot stay.

To quiet hearts and confident The Lord hath promised peace; So I shall quiet stand and wait Till war and clamor cease. No loud alarm shall stir my calm, No terror mar this hour, For all my days are in His hand, And He alone has power.

He who trusts God knows no defeat, and dreads No trial, no trick of mortal mind. He sees The rainbow long before the storm is stilled; He knows the clouds will pass.

To view the pattern of the land You rise in solitude. Up there I know you feel the hand Of Soul's infinitude.

"I will arise," this said the foolish one, He who, through hardship, learned humility. "I will return now to my father's house And end this season of futility.

I prayed to hear Thy voice, O God: I longed To feel Thy hand and know Thy certain love, To have that quiet confidence to say, "My Father—I, Your son. " For this I strove.

Looking afar, I fail to see The very thing I need at hand. Then Christ speaks quietly to me: Lo, It is here.

God knows no yesterdays, nor any tomorrows; no past, no future, only now— today. Haunted by some vague past, dreading the dim future, men dwell in perpetual fear; and yet, the Christ dispels these myths; yesterday's dreams vanish, tomorrow's illusion fades, this blessed moment is ours to know and to use discreetly.

Be still. The gentleness of Love is here To break earth's wild enchantment, penetrate The torpid mind, and silence human fear With peace.

The maestro brought his bow to answering strings, And sound born there swept forth in strains so sweet That all who heard were hushed in ecstasy To hear earth's harmony and heaven's meet. What made the music? Was it he who played? He did no more than touch the proper strings That brought vibrations into harmony And sent it forth on song's melodic wings.