Poems

Alone and newly arrived in a strange city I went to church, finding new depths of home and refreshing draughts of family in the pure spring of that love that is Church. Barbara L.

You sing! The hymn enfolds my longing hopes that seek some harmony afar off. You sing! The words are sweet, and clear, and true (the melody: pure peace).

Do we have to sit apart in some kind of cell in order to worship in daily life or is it a matter of attitude, of a standard clearly defined that takes us from day to day conscious of His law wherever we are worshiping on the move in touch with His all-embracing love? Marty E. Burwell.

Remember me? I sat as far away as I could and yawned at the good that delighted you. While you were sharing I was staring out the window trying to ignore the inspiration from God you so freely echoed.

The pillars of our church aren't marble or steel, aren't even the members— but their prayers! Prayers that reach realms of rejoicing: infinite Love's presence. Prayers through which best efforts expand to better understanding of man's relation to God.

Oh, how great is your love: For when I was brought to you, I came pitiful and wretched; when I lay foaming, cursing, thrashing, your mighty love would not be disturbed. Even when to all appearance I lay lifeless, you took my hand, and with your pure, unselfish seeing, knowing, you calmly said, Arise.

Open Thou my eyes, dear Father, To see what Thou would have me see, Beauty and holiness in all Thou art, Too pure to behold iniquity. Teach me to know only Thy presence So that I may bless and heal, That the world may see In my own vision Only that which Thou dost see Only that which is real.

"I am the way," the Master said. My heart rejoiced.

Wednesday evening: I sit half-listening. Doubt sidles in today, whispering, "That heal? That meet the world's great need?" And suddenly, it seemed, hands that had been so full held such a meager offering.

O God let me not, like the elder son, need to call some servant to decipher me the meaning of beginning to be merry. Let me not force my father out of his house to conciliate my cold hate to entreat these recalcitrant feet to follow him into the feast.