Poems

How perfect is the peace that comes as yielding thought obediently prays "Thy will be done. " How hushed the heart that finds, through storm or furnace fire, an understanding faith that naught can overcome.

I sat there under the selfsame sun Among the springtime flowers in meadows warm, And looked upon the waters peaceful and clear, Which once he stilled when tossed by raging storm. Around these waters as the sun set low, Gathered the lame, the deaf, the dumb, the sad, And with his Father's gentle healing power He'd sent them on their way, restored, made glad.

Serene and solitary the Master stood In momentous days long past. The tempest's raging onslaught could No harm upon him cast.

Last night, I had a great need, and the pastor came at my call. But not from a far-off pulpit did my pastor enter in the midnight hour.

This word is a pressing one; It implies urging, Insistence in asking, Persistence in requesting, Repeated imploring. Our yearning?— To know that whatever the appearance, God, the all-knowing, all-acting, all-wise, all-loving See Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health , p.

Dear God: I used to say, "life is cruel," Until I learned that You are Life. In the midst of injustice, cruelty, and disappointment, You were guarding and guiding my upward way.

It's truly a prayer being offered, sweet assurance flushing out all sense of failure. This song of Soul brings light, lifts layers of burden, dissolves them with a love that sings itself.

Spontaneous inspiration through spiritual devotion assures an atmosphere of love-filled thought that raises us above the life-in-matter notion. It frees us for sublime soaring as on outstretched wings, with dominion and full strength; we are lifted, ascending in new spiritual light, in the beauty of its warm glow, in upward flight.

Surely He can't mean me ! Who am I to preach to anyone? Like Moses, I'm slow of speech and live my day just helping keep sheep safe, specially the little lambs that will stray The scorching heat during your endless searching of the desert to find pasture for the flock; encouraging, supporting the tired ones who lag behind; the freeing of those who've let their fleece get caught up and torn on thorn bushes; the starless night spent not in sleeping but in tending the light that's keeping marauders away— all these have wrought a selfless transparency of the heart for Truth to shine through uncontaminatedly. It's being , not preaching, that prepares you for Christ's healing ministry.

The blossom that is you has many petals (more than can be counted), each delicate and pure and in its place; their essence is so beautiful that we know it is God, Love, who enfolds the ever-perfect whole, unfolding—unlike the material rose—forever. Think often of this spiritual bloom, and the lovely pattern of your lifework will help bring heaven *  to any place (within, without, and everywhere), that all may see and delight in the glory of God's work.