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Questions & Answers

What Stone?

What stone upon your heart brings pain or grief? Love's angel thoughts are here to give relief. Dark caves of sense would hide Christ in a tomb, Would bury him inside a rock-ribbed room.

Lifted Up

HE drew them from their busy streets; He offered truth to make them free; Not riches, which men might prefer. The magnet that he drew them with? The power of Love, divinity Bestowed on each impartially.

Renewal

Disentangle my heart from the past, Lord. Loosen my hold upon former griefs.

The Comforter

Let Truth be thy Comforter And, as well, thy messenger. Give or take, make joy's avowal Constant testimonial.

Desert Reflections

I John 3:3 "Even as he is pure" Listen ! Can you hear, Hear the voice, Hear it clear Here in wilderness? How hear? Hear a voice among these voices, Empty echoes chattering, Clattering in desert bone brittle, dust dry? Search! Can you see, See the center, Focal point of be— Epicenter of you, of me? How hear? How see? How tell in-turn from out-view, Discern the point of All Where all is pointless as sparrow's fall? Note the pattern, Fix on the star. Calculate infinity From where you are.

Daily Steps

Each time I love When mortal sense would have me hate, Each time I stand When fear would have me break, Each time I give with gratitude For God's great amplitude, God's will is done— His kingdom come.

"Is it I?"

" One of you shall betray me," said Jesus. And each was sorrowful and asked, "Lord, is it I?" That was the right way.

The Healing Word

Wait, my heart, to speak. Words need be holy things sprung from deep-laid seeds of thought to bring fair harvest.

Being

O, the hours stretching to years I have talked about God! Close to the fireside, walking the hills, the words have flowed concerning God and His allness. There is no other Life, no Mind, no Truth, no Love, no consciousness; and man is the very radiance of these, so I have said.

The Buds

The maple trees, red-budded, stand Against a leaden sky, Their tips a surer promise Than the wind's wild prophecy. O God, may I so rooted be, So grounded, so aflame With love, that winds of winter past Can have no power to chill or blast Buds opening in Thy name.