Questions & Answers

'Tis the glad messengers of Truth release From fetters false of sorrow, sin, disease, Poor struggling hearts 'mid ills that sense reports. His "still small voice" inspires with healing thoughts, And leads to higher views, to know His might, To see His tender, loving care, the light Of Love that knows no fear.

I do not long for power, nor lordly place; I do not sigh for jewels, nor for minted gold; I would not grieve if gifts of worldly grace, If land or houses or a large career, If luxury or plaudits men revere, My days of earthly pilgrimage should never hold. Yet, oh! within me wakes a craving deep And confident, like woodland wings that skyward start At dawn, the wish that I may find and keep Uplifting thoughts along my lowly way.

The hall was quiet for the priests were done; The people crouched obeisance,—all save I, Call'd son of Pharaoh's daughter; for a voice Spake in mine ear in accents half unknown: Moses, fare forth upon the winds of thought. Then I brake forth, until I saw the sky Above me, where into the firmament The planets burned, while from the banks of Nile Rose, to their God, the cry of Israel.

Time was when waiting seemed such idle play— To fold the hands and, hoping still, to weave The future's gold and silver threads, and leave All that we dreamed by night, or wished by day, For other hands to do. Misunderstood, God's will seemed seldom good! Pain, sorrow, care, Seemed sent from heaven to purge and make us good, And fit us for a future journey there.

When the earth-clouds gather 'round me And my path I cannot see, As a child that gropes in darkness, Reaches out my sense for Thee. Then within a still voice whispers: God is with me where I go, And His presence lights my pathway; Prayer pleads not,—it doth know.

We ask not, God, for greatness, to be thrust Upon us as we walk Thy way: Not for acclaim, nor yet for heads bowed down; No, not for these we watch and pray. But this we ask of Thee with midnight tears, With prayerful hearts and longing strife, That we may walk with Thee in gentleness, And show the tenderness of Life.

Pray listen, friend and neighbor, may I ask Just where God's sunshine enters thy domain? Thy welcome smile, in which I love to bask, Brings twofold healing to my bed of pain. Is 't through thy trusting heart that thou receiv'st The cheer that only heaven can bestow? Or is it through thy healing words thou leav'st A sense of quiet rest where'er you go? Perhaps thine eyes, so filled with hope, may be The windows to thine inner realm, and through Them shines the light that helps thee well to see Thy brother's daily need with clearer view.

My "upper room" is furnished. Lord, fails there yet one thing, Or has aught been forgotten, That Thou wilt not come in? I've washed my dusty floorings All white with purity, And swept out many a falsehood, To make more room for Thee.

I am so happy all the glad day long That each new morning brings another song; And each new problem which I dare assay Is but a step upon ascension's way. No good is ever lost; no truth destroyed; No pure desire by failure is alloyed; But as the moth forsakes its chrysalis And soars up eagerly to realms of bliss, With ne'er a backward look for what is lost, Nor e'en a sigh, counting how great the cost, So have I seen the gradual giving way Of things and thoughts and circumstances,—clay Which did but blind my inner, holier sight, Mere hindrances upon my upward flight.

A Kindly word Dropped in a heart, And grew and grew, Until in overflow It reached Some other weary hearts; And these, in turn, Spilled their sweet burden, Until a million hearts Were comforted.