Poems

How fair is the world to-day! Are the skies cloudy, looks it like rain? See, they are surely blowing away, For now I have no more pain. Oh, listen to the music of that bell! In joyousness intense we stand, While its glorious echoes fill The waiting ears of the listening land.

Christmas returns. There comes again The cloudless sky, with stars alight; The shepherds' watch; the sweet refrain Of angels,—and the quiet night.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. —23d Psalm.

Beware thy fears! 'Tis Love that steers Thy ship through all the stormy years, However wide thy journey veers; And oft the cloud that drops its tears, Into a rainbow disappears. Learn faith! Beware thy fears! Be not afraid! Storms have waylaid Thy ship, but Christ before hath stayed The darkened waves; be not dismayed, For "Peace, be still!" must be obeyed, And Love's glad sunshine cannot fade.

There is no unbelief! Whoever plants a seed beneath the sod, And waits to see it push away the clod, He trusts in God. Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky, "Be patient, heart light breaketh by-and-by," Trusts the Most High.

In the east the light is breaking, All the heights are touched with gold, And the dwellers in the valleys See a wondrous scene unrolled. Those who sit in outer darkness Catch a gleam of glory bright, And the shadows of the night-tide Outward sweep in Living Light.

Father , this little task that I must do, I ask of Thee to show me just the way That Thou wouldst have it done and, Father, too, I ask of Thee to teach me patiently The law of love to honor and obey; O may my hands be swift to serve, may I Praise Thee in song, and learn to watch and pray.

My heart was musing o'er its daily task Of patient effort in the narrow way, And so was lifted in a prayer to ask Wisdom to learn the lesson for each day; Then came the answer, gentle as a dove, "The only lesson to be learned is love. " Love shall surmount the overhanging steep Of self, in varied forms of human guise; Shall wake the slumbering thought from mortal sleep, And gently bid it to true being rise.

Whate'er there be on land or sea Above, below, of melody Of perfume sweet beyond compare Of loveliness that all may share The cloudless blue of springtime sky Bluer still as the days go by The laughing music of woodland rills The light of dawn on distant hills. The crimson splendor of western sun On silent waters when day is done The lullaby of the twilight breeze Singing softly among the trees.

Thy will be done. O Lord, it seems but one short yesterday Since I, a fearful child Made prayer unto myself,— Unto myself far off removed and magnified,— That life and love be spared And happy, loving days remain; And then through choking, blinding tears While iron fingers swept with rudest touch Across the aching, breaking strings Of a tired heart Cried out, ere anguish could beat back the cry, " Thy will be done.