Poems

Sealed unto God— Thy pure desire To know and live in holier Power; And naught can mar the peace and bliss Of its own Heaven-horn righteousness. Sealed unto God, Thy effort True, To bless mankind and ill subdue.

I look to thee in every need, And never look in vain; I feel thy touch, Eternal Love! And all is well again. The thought of thee is mightier far Than sin and pain and sorrow are.

THERE was never a rose, in its true light seen, That faded and perished; was ne'er a green Of spring-time that died to a winter's gray, Nor a night that fell on eternal day. There was never a shadow but seemed to be, There was never a lapse from reality; And Man, as he is, never discord knew, Never sorrowed nor suffered,— since Truth is true.

LET the waves of sound roll by! Quiet earth's tumultuous measures. In the silence, God draws nigh, And would give thee of His treasures.

A SENSE of life as mortal breath, Bound in a few uncertain years, Waiting, expectant for some death, Walking in bondage to our fears. A heritage of error's curse, A daily round of want and pain, A blind search through the universe For God, that seeks him yet in vain.

MOTHER'S NEW YEAR GIFT TO THE LITTLE CHILDREN. Father, Mother, God, Loving me— Guard me when I sleep, Guide my little feet Up to Thee.

Out of the discord of evil, Into the peace of God's love; Out of the false and the seeming, Into true joy from above. Out of all earth fogs and sorrows, Into the light of Love's face; Out of all sickness and yearning, Into true health, strength and grace.

" Little children, Love each other," Were the words of sainted John. When, the journey nearly ended, This the thought, he dwelt upon.

I've been testing the promise of "Father," My God, who is, Mother and all, A husband to widow, a brother Who will not permit me to fall. He is leading me through the "still waters," Though billows are mountain-top high, With my hand in His, footstep ne'er falters, For I know that the pathway is dry.

' Twas sabbath morn. The city lay I In the embrace of dawn, which, As it blended with the approaching day, Revealed Cathedral dome, and lofty spire Of many a church, where people congregate To worship God; till at length, Its radiance rested on a Temple made Of stone, symmetrical and white, Which towered in silent speech, and Voiceless prayer, piercing the sky;— as if To point beyond the finite view, And lead the worn and weary unto Christ.