Poems

Sweet song of Love is sounding louder now to me. I catch the chord; I hear it clearer, nearer to the heart.

Is kindness alien to your world? Courtesy a quality withheld? Then give them where you are! Be courteous and be kind. Somewhere is terror blasting life? Fear and ignorance fanned to strife? Then heal them, where you are.

Love's kindness stays, blossoming on through empty corridors of grief and desert stretches of want, through explosions of hate, regret, remorse. Here, right now, no heartbreak lack, no looking back.

Distance is not solid fact. It won't divide into its smallest part— for mortal measurement is inexact.

Where Soul's loving children share the joy of faith and trust, the outcome must be filled with shining grace— all recognizing each in ordered place. VIRGINIA L.

What did Moses see as he walked with joy in the Lord, and his following band, drooping in fear and doubt, watched the dust rising from their sandaled feet? He went with songs of praise! Surely he would have seen the soft glow of light along the wing of a dove; delighted in the dance of gushing waters, of prisms in the fallen dew; prayed (remembering another time) as sunset flame blazed bright on bush and shrub. Father, let me walk as Moses did, rejoicing as I go, that I, too, may see some radiant gleam of sunrise promise, some tender blade of growth along my wilderness way.

O Thou whose mercy forever falls like rain causing prayerful leaves of gratitude to spring up, cleanse the human heart! I see the child stamp in the puddle of pure affections with delight. He gets me wet, and God smiles.

Before we go onto the battlefield To fight the good fight against the powers of darkness, While we are locating our plumed helmets, Our gauntlets, hauberks, shields, and habergeons, While we are sharpening our broad swords, Burnishing our breastplates till they gleam, And long before we look into the glass To admire the "parfit .

In Love's household not one thought is outside Love's domain. For in Love's home each one of us is gathered in His name.

To trust the end from the beginning, the shining, ordered end, is not to know what shades or shapes the threads of tapestry will wind to, only that a masterpiece is in the making. To forge the colors of my thought to purest tones—to peaceflame blue, ascension yellow—is all my part, since hands more capable are molding, stitch by Spirit, the pattern of my life.