Questions & Answers
How can the marvels of His love be told— The silver brook, the grass-clothed mountain side, The gentle kine, the music of the fold! Our debt mounts up! No good thing is denied That could enrich our lives. Proclaim it wide! The matchless wonder of unchanging Love, No shade of turning—each need satisfied; Our thanks, like stars gemming the blue above, Should fill our hearts with radiant joy divine.
Men seek their happiness in divers ways: While one will labor hard, another plays; Some think their pleasure comes through sensual joys; One silence cultivates, another noise. But each and all are searching after good, Whether in indolent or active mood.
Make room, O seeker, make room! No suppliant thou, lest thy prayer be unheard! Expectantly certain the promise divine In uttermost fullness, no moment deferred, Awaits but thy claiming to seal it as thine; Make room, O seeker, make room! Take heed, O seeker, take heed! Let naught in the storehouse a cumbrance remain Usurping the place where God's blessing should rest; Cast out every relic, wipe out every stain, Lest aught serve to keep thee from knowing His best; Take heed, O seeker, take heed! Rejoice, O seeker, rejoice! God's blessing unmeasured to thee is outpoured, The windows of heaven for thee are unsealed; His promise fulfilling, for thee hath He stored Far more than thy heart's deepest longings revealed; Rejoice, O seeker, rejoice! And how, O seeker, repay The benefits God upon thee doth bestow? Make room to receive His abundance unguessed, That doth from His bounty unfailingly flow. Accepting God's gift is thy gratitude's test.
I thank Thee, Love, because, whene'er I gain A purer sense of Truth, a clearer sight, I know, compared with what I shall attain, 'Tis but a glimpse of light. I'm glad for sunlight, stars, and forests dense, Rejoicing that the truths they would express Are far more beautiful than human sense Can even faintly guess.
" The snowbird sings and soars amid the blasts. " Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy, page 220.
' T is true God comes to us in quiet moments When sense is hushed, and thought in silent prayer Is tuned to catch the wondrous strain which sweetens The daily task, or stress of seeming care. Oh, for the healing touch of heavenly angels Which lifts the consciousness to heights above; And through the Christ unfolds a purer impulse— The heart's desire to prove that Life is Love! Dear Father-Mother God! Thou leadest ever In rising tones of tenderness and strength, Beyond all discord into pure conception Of heaven's eternal harmonies, at length.
Oh , with what tender grace the Master smiled, As in his arms he took a little child And set him in the midst! And then he turned Upon his wondering friends a look that burned With love the flimsy tatters of their pride. Unstriving, modest, happy, at his side The child's unconscious, unassuming worth Wrought in those hearts the work of the new birth, And each, a little child, e'en as of yore, Stood, trustful, at his mother's knee once more.
" To-day my soul can only sing and soar," page 174 The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, by Mary Baker Eddy, page 174 In freedom sing, in life newborn Sing joyfully of hope and faith and praise Of Him whose gracious spirit blesses us In omnipresent peace and power. And singing soar; soar high to heaven's gate, Unhampered by the world of sense, Unleashed from human will and earth-born pride, Wing, free, into the ethereal vast of God's Unmeasured space—eternity.
To grow, and still to grow, in wisdom, love, and power, Nearer divinity with each new day, each passing hour; To conquer petty faults and littleness; To gain in Love's strong school, patience and tenderness; In the divine and highest law at last to come Into the soul grown free—our Master's home.
When the healing truth of the Word to-day Takes sickness and sin from our lives away, And reveals true man in God's image made, As pure and deathless and unafraid; As we learn these truths that the Master taught, Do we return with the joy they brought, And kneel before him in grateful thought, Or are we but of the graceless nine? Oh, ''where are the nine?" Is not each of them mine? But none has returned to me: "Where are the nine"?