Questions & Answers
I must be certain of the living way, If I would lead the darkened sense To glorious day. I must prove life upon the path I tread If I would wake from dream of sense The hopeless dead.
Midst stress and toil of troubled days, Midst babbling tongues and traffic's roar, A golden thread runs through the maze Straight to a sweetly secret door, Where one may safely enter in And find repose from worldly din. The press of cares, which sometimes seem To make of hope a bitter mock, Here vanish with the Adam-dream And lose their vaunted claim to shock; While sorrow, sickness, and decay Upon its threshold turn away.
Prepare no altars in the places high; Let not vain incense rise unto the sky; Tell humbly thou the truth that maketh whole To seeking hearts, in gentle tones of Soul. The tide of error, surging on the shore Of sense, doth seem to lift its voice and roar; Yet Soul has but to whisper, soft and clear, And every waiting, listening heart doth hear.
Not in the earthquake or the wind Doth God, the Father, move and speak: The utterance of perfect Mind Comes in deep stillness to the meek And humble heart, that does but seek His perfect will and way to find. From God proceeds all, and returns To Him alone, reflected, free.
Oh , troubled one, by sorrow torn, Look up and see the light! God's child can never be forlorn; Thy path with Love is bright. God guides, God guides— Oh, praise Him for His love! Oh, suffering one, though chained by pain, The great Physician 's near! His loving words to you are plain: Come unto me, nor fear.
Symbol of our great Leader's faithfulness, By grateful hearts presented to mankind, Each detail of thy structure clearly wrought, Obedient to the Father's guiding hand— The Mother Church! Our Leader's concept clear Of God's sure government in human ways! Conceived in truth, her "child on upward wing"* Arose, and gathered strength from Love's warm rays; Then tenderly reached out afar and near Into the waiting hearts of human kind, Allaying fear, destroying sin and death, Thus demonstrating present, perfect Mind. Oh, may thy walls be builded in our hearts By Principle, on Christ, foundation sure! So will thy purpose be fulfilled with men; Thy fruitage be eternal and secure.
Has error stripped you of your coat of many hues, And sold you to the passing Midianites? Then, comrade, keep your faith; you cannot lose Those visions dear of Truth, your guardian lights. Mayhap you'll live to feed a multitude; Forgive, and turn your brethren from their wrong; To see the years of leanness turn to good, A father's mourning wail become a song.
Crushing a rock to fragments by hard toil, The patient workman follows blow with blow; Though an unyielding surface seems to foil His strength, his arm doth no cessation know, Till shattered bits his diligence proclaim. By which of sturdy strokes his purpose gained? The last? Nay, every one to final aim Made needful contribution; thus attained The wished result—by perseverance.
Let mortal sense be still; Heed thou the angel thoughts That wonder-winged forever fill The heart receptive to God's will; And know that now and here His perfect work is done; Man in the image of his God Knows naught but God, as Life and Love!
Shall I not take the hand of Him who knows Whither He goes, Tread the far silence of the desert drear, And trust His care Whose love through blackest night still leads me on, Nearer to dawn? Shall I not choose from all within my heart The better part, Knowing that only things that do not die Can satisfy? Shall I not lay my head upon His breast, And in that rest Taste the long promise of the tired years, And lose my tears?