Questions & Answers

So I am all alone. And shall I grieve At empty houses, empty hearts, or loss Of what seemed dear and needful? Can there be An empty heart, when it is overbrimmed With love for God and man? An empty house, When earnest work to know Love's truth has filled Its every nook? Have I lost anything, Or anyone, when God is here, and All? —When He is Love, and all the love I need! —When that divine and mothering tenderness Broods over me, speaks in these silent rooms, Lights up the hovering dark, and stands His guard Of bright, unmatched protection at my door! Have I lost any good, when God is here? Do I lack any love, when Love is mine?

Measured by mortals into old and new, The year is limited to certain days. Above, beyond this transient, earth-bound view, Eternity awaits the inspired gaze.

I waken from a dream, And where is then The nightmare horror that beset the way? (So very real it seemed, so present there The nothingness that fades in thinnest air. ) I waken from a dream.

Inspired by Mind, impelled by Soul alone, May speech, with fragrance of the new-blown flower, Go forth to heal; reveal to each his own Unsullied status at this very hour, His flawless being, sustained by God's all-power!

Intrepid traveler, carry your lantern high; so many travel darkened roads these days. O wayfarer, hear their cry, and answer back with gratitude and praise for only one creator, governing all, holding His own children near and dear.

I sighed to drop my load Where Love's sweet waters flowed, And yet was loath to drop the self that sighed, That with self-pitying tongue To its vain being clung And would not quite forgo its foolish pride. But God's swift angel came With heavenly love aflame And sternly bade me that sad self deny; After with accents mild Called me His well-loved child And bade me gently on His arms rely, And then to strive no more, But close the closet door, Be silent there, and listen what He saith: "Look inward to the shrine Where perfect Love divine Tears down the tattered veil of birth and death.

A teacher , great as he was humble, lived that he might give divine philosophy. Could we but remember through the day the Love-prompted words he came to say! The Lord's Prayer thus begins: " Our Father.

The still, small voice that ever guides Despite the tumult and the clatter Of earthly witness that records The false report of mindless matter— Herein is love. To know Mind's watchful care and find The path made straight for feet that falter, Divine bestowal of all good, Unmeasured good that cannot alter— Herein is love.

" Is it well with the child?" "It is well. " From his high estate God's child never fell.

I, their jailer, heard them sing and pray, And felt the awful earthquake shake them free; The blame, the Roman blame, for their escape Must fall on me. I seized the sword to end my hated life, But in the darkness felt Paul's hand.