Poems

I clasp in faith the hand of God, And trust His loving care. I know no plan or creed that leads So near His throne as prayer.

Immeasurable eons of time respond! Respond thou to my soul; Answer the questions I shall ask! Backward, ye ages, roll. Nay, come not nigh, thou Fear, Thou phantom of my brain.

Thy children, camels, everything thou hast, Have crossed the brook before the failing light; And all alone, through the long, awful night, Thou wrestledst with a message from the vast Spirit of Truth and Love that comes at last The sinew of thine error's strength to smite; And till the dawn of daylight meets thy sight, The angel still thou boldest firm and fast. And now, behold, he crieth, "Let me go! For lo, the morning breaketh!" Keep thy hold Upon the glorious one, till he bestow His blessing on thee; and when night has rolled Back from thy sense, on thee, like him of old, At Peniel the risen sun will glow.

'Tis not my task to feed the fowls of heaven; Nor clothe the lilies in their robes of white; Nor paint the rainbow in the clouds at ev'en; Nor deck the meadows with their blossoms bright. 'Tis not my task to criticise my brother, And watch his progress with a jealous eye; Nor envy the possessions of another, And let my flowers of promise droop and die.

"Let there be light!" Thus God Almighty spoke; A breathless void to Life awoke And lent pulsation to an inert Night; Atomic space flashed light to light, And from the mystic depths of Past, unfurled The splendor of a new-born world. "Let there be light!" God speaks to-day, Hide not thyself in dark recess away, Nor in the dim past faintly grope, But in the present stand inspired by hope; Thus with the living "daily bread," Not with the mould of Time shalt thou be fed.

To higher things Christ calls us, To things that are above; From error, that enthrals us, To reign with him in Love: To higher things Christ leads us, Himself hath trod the way, The Bread of Heaven he feeds us, He is our strength and stay. He bids us leave our burdens Of sorrow, sickness, sin, And take his heavenly guerdons, And rest his Love within; Above, on heavenly treasures, Fix fast our falt'ring mind; Nor dream in worldly pleasures, We peace or joy can find.

The stormy night is dark before the dawn, Dismal and overcast; But rosy on the mountain's eastern lawn Faith's eye beholds the heavenly banners borne; He comes!—He comes at last! The lie is loudest ere the Truth's revealed: The night is nearly past: Seek they a sign? then say, "The sign is sealed,— The lame, the blind, the sinners all are healed:" He comes!—He comes at last! The flowerets, folded in their secret cell, Heed not the stormy blast: His thoughts they are: they hear his tread, and tell From lip to lip, from nectar-cup to bell, "He comes!—He comes at last!" "He comes," said we? this was his word sublime Ere from our sight he passed, "Lo I am with you till the end of time:" Then we—though deaf to reason as to rhyme— Know him at last—at last!

Feed me with Love, O Father, The bread of Life divine; The living waters give me, From that white throne of Thine: Then shall I hunger never, And thirst no more shall know, And from my thought forever Shall healing rivers flow. Feed me and heal me, Father; Guard me where'er I go.

Marble and recording brass decay, And, like the 'graver's memory, pass away; The work of man inherit, as is just, Their author's frailty, and return to dust; But Truth divine forever stands secure, Its head as guarded, as its base is sure; Fixed in the rolling Hood of years, The pillar of the eternal plan appears; The raving storm and dashing wave defies, Built by the Architect who built the skies. Cowper.

Gently as the snowflakes falling From a dark and cloudy sky; Sweetly as showers of cherry blooms From grey branches bare and dry; Comes the Angel of His Presence Out of clouds that dim the sight, Bringing peace like breath of perfume, Clothing earth in robes of white. 'Tis the same sweet voice of "Peace" That the faithful shepherds heard: And the storm-tossed, frightened sailors Saw the waves obey the word That we hear while we are working, Ofttimes in a starry night; Sore afraid we call the Master, And his "Peace" puts fear to flight.