Questions & Answers
Like bird that preens its wing for upward flight, So, Lord, through prayer my heart prepares for Thee. Rejoicing in each proof of Spirit's might, Thought rises higher, clearer views to see.
When to you the angels whisper, Walk by faith and not by sight, In the narrow, upward pathway, Turn to neither left nor right, Arise, obey! Seems this path bereft of sunshine? Do foreboding clouds appear? Humbly yield each budding purpose To the loving Father's care; Watch and pray! Falter not, nor fear the shadows, Ever seek the heavenly goal, Bright the skies, no trace of sorrow In the atmosphere of Soul; Rejoice alway.
Your tents, O world, are pitched in Rephidim, Where no water is for your famishing. You shall go onward; you shall find a Rock.
My business is to know myself, to know I am His child; To know He holds me in His arms, perfect and undefiled; To know my brother man as His, to know that naught but right Can emanate from one who is thus perfect in His sight. For when I know that God is Love, no fears can torture me; The blessed healing words are proved, The truth shall make you free.
Keep pouring from thy cruse of oil, O cupbearer of God. Stint not thy healing, holy toil, Pour consecration, love.
Vainly I wandered when my thoughts Were filled with sin and worldly taint; I did not find Thee in the wind, Or in the cyclone's roaring plaint; But when a sorrow drenched my heart, I turned from worldliness, and knew That all my treasure made of clay But hid Thy goodness from my view. I did not find Thee in the storm, Or in the thunder's roar of fright; I found Thee when earth's hope was gone.
If thou, my son, thy love to prove art willing, Then take the task that by thee lies, The one just there, just at thy side, The one so trivial in thine eyes, The one you've seen, but never tried, Yet, there it waits, thy love to prove. Art willing?
Ah ! could we only rise and see The bliss of being, Love, with Thee, We would leave aught that comes between Us and the vision we have seen, As easily as on a day When summer breezes pass her way, And honey bee, The rose beside my garden wall Lets one white petal lift—and fall!
The holy Book of books was Love-inspired: How else could simple messages lift hearts On strong, brave, soaring wings when they are tired With fret and fear; how else could broken parts Of sentences shine out with sudden light To show the way for weary, wandering feet; How else could mere descriptive words bloom bright With healing phrases, beautiful and sweet? Now in the place where he was crucified There was a garden, John thus briefly wrote; A simple fact, and yet one reading cried For joy because his thought was stirred to note A glorious thing that Love would have us know: That right where hate has raised a cruel cross There is a garden where we all may go On lifted thought to purge our hearts of dross And love our fellow man; then, praying, bring A victory out of each hard circumstance— A garden where, like birds, our hearts may sing, Our faith shine out like sunlight's radiant glance, Our hope bud new, and where, like bending sky, Love broods forever with a watchful eye.
Dear Father-Mother, God, to Thee I lift my thought eternally. Help me to give the highest and the best To those dear ones who find their way oppressed With fear and doubt.