Poems

Two books to speak the splendor of God's Word; A double chart; a two-stemmed tree of life; Twin treasures far above all gold preferred; A haven safe beyond the mortal strife; Two roadways leading home; two windows bright, Opening on sunnier lands almost untrod; Two suns dissolving the dim face of night; A two-leaved gate before the house of God; Two wells of living water whence to draw Hourly refreshment; undivided ends; Two witnesses; two tables of the law Unbroken; a singing angel throng; two friends.

This Quarterly holds notes in latent state Like organ score, and like two keyboards spanned, The Bible and our Leader's textbook wait For quick response of passage-finding hand To wake from printed page the answering Of phrase with phrase, reciprocally clear, When parallel significances sing For comprehension's quietness to hear. These metaphors reach deeper, for each part Of this revealed correlative array, Now spread in thought, presents a further chart Of urgent notes for selfless skill to play On demonstration's keys, till, tone by tone, With primal concord God enfolds His own.

She searched the Scriptures, and she found in them The rule that heals all sickness, sin, and woe. The search was sweet; Mind did not fail her when, With faith newborn, she saw the way to go.

" Let none of the sons of Israel live," The Egyptian king decreed. But Moses' mother had much to give Her son in the hour of need.

As children to their mother drawing near A well-loved story once again to hear, So come we to this quiet place to be Through spoken word acquainted, Lord, with Thee. And as the truth unfolds to us from Mind, The disappointments all are left behind, And ills, and pains, and fears, long cherished, cease, Yielding their outgrown power to trust and peace.

I was not satisfied, was not content With my surroundings, and it seemed to me That in a wholly new environment I might find peace in new activity. Far places beckoned, and I followed far, Each time with highest hope of better things, Still thinking peace and true contentment are To be attained through many wanderings.

In a small upper room a woman sat, The sunlight softly falling on her hair Through the low skylight window. On the floor About her lay a precious, growing pile Of sheets, close-written, almost shining with The glorious inspiration of her thoughts, All God-directed, marvelously filled With messages of Truth and Love from heaven itself.

O Love divine that blessed us in the past, And here today sustains, protects, and leads, Why should we ever doubt, or even ask If the All-knowing meets tomorrow's needs? Why do we dread the thought, "I am alone"? None is alone, for Love is all around. Love, the unchanging, careth for His own; In God's encircling love man's home is found.

Stumbling, I halt, Not knowing how to pray. And yet, what matter if the words I say Seem impotent or groping as a child's? True thought is prayer, And thought when undefiled Is known to Him: Each humble deed and each unselfed desire, Each thought that to the perfect shall aspire, Each tender yearning to include all men In universal love! Perfected, then, My prayer.

Think not, O sentry in the dark Of dismal hours that know no light, That you must stand your watch alone; God watches with you in the night. No fear can cause His hand to fall, No weariness can dim His sight.