Poems

Why haltest thou here, O thou loitering one, And why art thou looking so sad? For they who are traveling the royal highway Press onward with faces all glad. Dost fear there are lions besetting the path? Love has conquered them, once and for all; And never a danger upon thee shall come, Nor an evil to thee befall.

As nature's shower and sunshine bring From fertile soil each tender thing, New thoughts, like birds upon the wing, In praise to God, rise, soar, and sing; While flowers to all their fragrance fling, As they come forth at call of spring. So Truth, unfolding beauteous, fair, Within our hearts its flowers rare — Love, constancy, devotion, prayer, Whose fragrance gentle zephyrs bear To soothe the heartsick, sweeten care — Doth call, Come forth — Love's freedom share! O earth-bound mortal; matter, clay Is not true soil nor substance; nay, 'Tis but a shadow which one ray Of light dispels and clears the way.

If e'er the brilliant day be dulled with care, Or ways seem balked by sense of limitation; Watch! lest within the burden of thy prayer The suppliant's cry outweigh Love's affirmation. If e'er life seems to breathe of self and sin, And on heaven's stillness mortal voice is falling, Watch! lest them let the subtle tempter in To drown the music of Christ's whispered calling.

O thou afflicted, tempest-tossed, Awake from troubled dreams! Arise, and fling thy portals wide To catch the first faint beams. For light is breaking in the east, And o'er the shim'ring sea The curtains of the night withdraw, And day hath dawned for thee! Then, weary heart, look up, rejoice! For all creation sings: The Sun of righteousness shall rise With healing in his wings.

" My burden is too heavy, Lord," I trembling said. "I can no farther carry it!" And tears I shed.

True consciousness is like the sea,      Unbounded, free. Like white ships to and fro, Thoughts come and go      All silently.

The night of materialism wanes. —Science and Health, p.

Why move ye such a saddened throng throughout a weary world of woe, The heavy fear of dreaded death upon thine eyelids hanging low, When life eternal swings thy way, where God's own angels singing go. And death is done, did ye but know! The far hereafter is today—it holds no place for trembling tears.

God give us love To check the battle's ruthless rain. And bring again to life the slain; To make the paths of peace more plain.

God's kingdom does not come With the emblazoned silken banners flying, With shrilling of the trumpet's clarion crying, With the deep roll of drum. But, as vague dreams of night Fade into nothing when we rouse from sleeping To find the sun his morning vigil keeping, Bathing the world in light; So, as one may obey The "still small voice," he wakes to find the seeming Of sin, disease, and death was but the dreaming.