Poems

In Thee, O Spirit true and tender, I find my life as God's own child; Within Thy light of glorious splendor I lose the earth-clouds drear and wild. Within Thy love is safe abiding From every thought that giveth fear; Within Thy truth a perfect chiding, Should I forget that Thou art near.

O tender, loving Shepherd, We long to follow thee, To follow where thou leadest, Though rough the path may be; Though dark and heavy shadows Enshroud the way with gloom, We know that Love will guide us, And safely lead us home. We know, beloved Shepherd, The path that thou has trod Leads ever out of darkness, And on and up to God.

O gentle presence, peace and joy and power; O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour, Thou Love that guards the nestling's faltering flight! Keep Thou my child on upward wing tonight. Love is our refuge; only with mine eye Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall: His habitation high is here, and nigh, His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.

O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind      There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind      The power of pain, And wake a white-winged angel throng      Of thoughts, illumed By faith, and breathed in raptured song,      With love perfumed. Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show      Life's burdens light.

Saw ye my Saviour? Heard ye the glad sound? Felt ye the power of the Word? 'Twas the Truth that made us free, And was found by you and me In the life and the love of our Lord. Mourner, it calls you,—"Come to my bosom, Love wipes your tears all away, And will lift the shade of gloom, And for you make radiant room Midst the glories of one endless day.

Born in the never-night of Arctic summer, They come from a distant, different world Of ever dawn and ever day. Yelping Hounds on high, harnessed to the wind.

Standing flat-footed on earth's floor, listening to news of recent disaster, fearing chaos will wash over us, we search the skies. Stars steadfast in their constellations.

Each spring, a crocus bursts forth our asphalt walk, and launches into bloom. Its delicate beauty intact— not torn or tattered from its rugged journey.

Beauty is a thing of life, which dwells forever in the eternal Mind and reflects the charms of His goodness in expression, form, outline, and color. — MARY BAKER EDDY.

God's mandate: Arise and dress, you're Not a "mess" But my beloved child Strong and free, reflecting me Completely satisfied. Much labor now awaits you— You're equal to the task.