Poems

When from night's loom the shadows deep unroll, Make thou accounting; question thus the soul: "Hast thou lent aught of thy God-trusted wealth, To bring thy fellow unto peace or health? Hast laid a balm to heal some sore hurt heart, Withdrawn, despairing, from the press apart? Hast shot a smile athwart misfortune's frown; Or lifted up the brother, Wrong cast down?" If none of these be done, thy deeds were naught; It boots not with what toil thy day was fraught. W.

Is the Spirit good seed sowing? Let it grow. Do not fret about its growing, God doth know.

Where throve the choking tares, I gather golden wheat; Where loomed a wall of sordid cares, I pass with winged feet. 'Tis Faith that bursts the seed, 'Tis Love that turns the sod The rain that falls is mercy's meed, The sun, the smile of God.

It is the province of spiritual sense to govern man. Science and Health, p.

I SEEM so blind, I do not always see The cloud by day, nor glowing fire by night That thou hast said should mark the way for me, And lead me on to Thine eternal light. Such sweet desires spring up beside the way, I turn aside, O Lord, to make them mine; They perish soon, they live but for a day, And so I know these joys were never Thine.

Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place, or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done, in the right way. " Then shall I see it not too great nor small To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; Then shall I cheerful greet the laboring hours, And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall At eventide, to play and love and rest, Because I know for me my work is best.

"Ride on! ride on in majesty!" Thou who the way of Life hath shown So that the world may have its own— Be one with thee, and death dethrone. "Ride on! ride on in majesty!" Thou art the Truth that maketh free, And thus in thee we ever see The palms! the palms of victory! "Ride on! ride on in majesty!" They who their garments spread for thee Stand for all men as they will be When in the City Heavenly.

Good wheat I sowed in the field, And labored under the sun; But after the toil was done My senses by sleep were sealed, In the long, long wait for the yield. Unburdened by honest cares, An enemy, ever awake His uncaused hate to slake, Scattered his bag of tares On the earth late turned by the shares.

To sit in judgment on our fellow-man Is awkward work, if we the truth confess; For though with eyes severe his deeds we scan, Brought to the bar of our self-righteousness, How well we know that every fault we find, The folly, weakness, guile, and evil shown, Have equal place firm-stationed in our mind, And that the sin we punish is our own. There's but one human way or weak or strong, Standing or stumbling, as the chance may be, Oh, kinfolks, hand in hand, let's grope along, Helping and being helped, in our degree; The road is weary and its perils great, It is not ours to make it wearier still We need love's kindliness.

With loving arms He bore them on, Through all the days of old; And carried them with tender care, As lambs of His own fold. With pity He redeemed them all, With love He bore their woe, The angel of His presence came, The toilsome way to show.