Questions & Answers
Oh , the dawn of Truth is bringing Clearer vision every day; And the flowers of God are springing All along the upward way. Every evening brings its morning, Every morn a broader view, On the glad, ascending pathway Of creation, ever new.
Dwell high within the secret place; 'T is nigh the Father's loving face. There hide, and trust the power supreme To guide through error's mortal dream.
So close to Thee, dear God, that I may hear Thy softest whisper sounding full and clear To point my way; And all the day I shall rejoice to know Thee ever near. So close to Thee, dear God, that I may feel Thy tender hand upon me as I kneel In praise to Thee; And may it be My joy to know Thy Word my work doth seal.
We ask for this: to know that good is power, That good is present every day and hour. For this is truth ; and those who love the true Have proven well what Truth and Love can do.
O Love , send out Thy radiance free, That I may keep the pathway sure, And reach Thy holy hill, secure From clouds that now encompass me. Then to Thy presence will I go With praise and joyfulness supreme, Where, wakened from the earthly dream, Thy perfect peace my heart shall know.
It is not mine to seek how God shall know my need, Nor how divinely Love unfailingly shall feed His sheep; nor is it mine to pray, Forget me not: His love encircles me—I cannot be forgot.
Within its walls are quietude And kindliness and grace; And naught of all the teeming world Shall mar this holy place. And here are rest and healing balm For human cares and woe; And goodly gifts are ours to take, The gifts right thoughts bestow.
When wearied by earth’s dreams, And thoughts from self arise, A ray breaks through the mist that seems, And Truth appears to waking eyes. Clear vision from above New heaven and earth unfolds, And more of wisdom, Truth, and Love Our now transcendent sight beholds.
Think thou no unkind thought; Would'st lay a load Upon a brother On an upward road? Withhold no tender word; Thou canst not say Which brother needs That very word to-day.
I love to read the tender, human story Of Jesus there in far-off Galilee, Of how they brought the sick to him at even, When the cool breeze was blowing from the sea. In thought, I seem to see the sunset's glory, The ever changing hues of rose and gold; And then the swiftly deepening twilight shadows Of that dear holy time, my eyes behold.