Questions & Answers
NOW girds he for the conflict In the armor of the Lord; With righteousness his breastplate, And the Word of God his sword; Nor can he be defeated, whate'er the battle's length, For the joy of the Lord is his strength! Let those who fight by Michael Both strength and courage bring, For swift he follows after Each evil-seeming thing; Nor ever looks behind him, nor fears whate'er betide, And a pillar of fire is his guide! O wondrous sons of morning! Serene in strength they go, Michael and all his angels With flaming swords aglow. No sound of pain or sorrow is heard when they destroy, But the sons of God shouting for joy!
OUR Master said to the widow's son: Young man, I say Arise! And a victory over death was won, To the mother's glad surprise. And then, Talitha cumi, To the little maid he said, And the shadow dark and gloomy Was gone; for she was not dead.
Father, I know that Thou wilt lead them too, As Thou led'st me; From creeds that blind, and terrors which pursue, Out from the old life safe into the new,— To knowing Thee; That they may dwell in all that's good and true Eternally. Mother, I know that Thou wilt hold their hand,— Thou didst hold mine,— Across earth's wastes, and error's shifting sand, And bring them sweetly, gently, to the land Of Love divine; Wilt teach them just as they can understand, Line upon line.
Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. —Psalms.
Though wandering in a maze of fear Or treading in a marsh of doubt,— As one still must who lingers here While seeking still the pathway out,— This joyous thought the bosom fills: Thank God, I still can see the hills! Or as a dweller in a street Where towering structures hide the view, And stretch their tops the sky to meet Like ancient Babel's tower anew; What though their bulk the prospect mars; Thank God, we yet may see the stars! And so, through creeds or dogma's weft, Or man-made superstition grim, We turn nor to the right nor left, But keep our hearts still fixed on Him. No matter what the lie may mean, Thank God that Truth may still be seen!
Behold the star of Bethlehem! Arise and follow on; Its seven-hued light is leading From darkness into dawn. Behold the star of Boston, That selfsame star of yore.
Safe in the arms of knowledge, safe in the ark of God, Sheltered in Truth's own keeping from evil's awful flood,— Behind us the law and the prophets, before us the heaven to be, Forward! Christian and Scientist, over the last Red Sea! Mind is the force we tread on. Spirit the sword we wield, The Bible Word our cannon on earth's grim battle field; Wisdom and understanding our sentries by day and by night,— Onward! Christian and Scientist, for victory is with the right! We are nearing the doom of matter, we have passed to the latter years, We have seen the earthquake and famine; let us see where the Christ appears; He is healing the sick in the trenches, He is guiding the navies at sea, Principle and not person! Lo, the dead are risen in Thee! Thoughts of the Most High are gathering, the skies are filled with their host, Michael is leading his legions armed with the Holy Ghost; Oppression and violence shall vanish; by seven ways shall they flee! Answer, O man, to thy Maker! Stand forth—pure, upright, and free! Safe in the kingdom of heaven, safe in the city of Love, Father-Mother Almighty, beneath us, around us, above; Sin conquered for ever and ever, salvation forever outpoured,— Upward! Christian and Scientist, enter the joy of the Lord!
Blind led the blind, we slumbered unawares, And while men slept the enemy sowed tares. The old familiar guides we knew are gone, And broken are the reeds we leaned upon.
O Heavenly Father , let me know Myself, and see The faults and sins that separate My heart from Thee; And let me see above, beyond The mists so dense, My own real self, the blessed child Of Soul, not sense. And as this vision, calm and clear, Dawns on my sight.
Once more,—a victory for thee, Thou sweet constraining rod! I bow the head, and bend the knee, And yield me to the love of God. When Love hath conquered me, I lose, Yet am a victor too; I win what I myself would choose At first, had I the wit to do.