Questions & Answers
When wintry days seem bleak and cold, Yet doth the hearth's enchanting blaze Restore the pleasant summer days: Almost we may the flowers behold. So, when the earth's repellent blast Doth menace thy heart's summer fair, Then to Love's dwelling-place repair: Its warmth e'er-glowing there thou hast.
By day he taught them on the temple floor The lore of love, the love of God for men. They came in thousands, and their sick they bore On beds or biers to touch his hand, and then They worshiped him when he had eased their pain.
Remember, Lord, Thy works of old! Thou wilt not in our need forsake us, Who in Thy strength alone are bold. Remember, Lord, Thy works of old! And when our doubting hearts grow cold From lack of Love and Truth, then make us Remember, Lord, Thy works of old! Thou wilt not in our need forsake us!
He bore the signet of the Syrian king, With all the circumstance of princely pride, With chariots in their bold emblazoning, And broidered robes and wealth of gold beside. Thus was it meet this messenger should ride, Thus came the captain of the Syrian host, The counselor in whom did most confide His royal master, loved and honored most,— But Naaman was a leper, white as shrouded ghost.
HE that in all things honored God, Saw man in heavenly guise; He pierced the palsy and the sin With his unerring eyes. As light into the darkness falls, So Love's forgiveness fell, And each atonement made for sin Made naught disease as well.
Thank God for life, thank God for truth and love, For good brown earth, for starry skies above, For golden days of sunshine warm and bright, E'en for each candle flickering through the night. Thank God for flowers that blow in gardens fair, For tiny blossoms in a city square.
What do we need to keep the nation whole, To guard the pillars of the state? We need The fine audacities of honest deed; The homely old integrities of soul; The swift temerities that take the part Of outcast right—the wisdom of the heart; Brave hopes that mammon never can detain, Nor sully with his gainless clutch for gain. We need the Cromwell fire to make us feel The common burden and the public trust To be a thing as sacred and august As the white vigil where the angels kneel.
I always felt the blackest cloud would lift, Break, reveal the blue and snow-white drift Above, and all the glories of God's skies, And gropingly I felt my sense would rise, Sometime. I hoped that good would grow from everything, That every bud that blossomed in the spring Was but a symbol of some larger, purer love That lived and bloomed, eternal, far above, Somewhere.
Born in the dust of poverty and shame, And nurtured in neglect, with tarnished name, A hunger-goaded waif to Zion came. His was a sordid tale, and hundreds more, Helpless as he, had wandered there before, To pray for work and wage from door to door.
Awaken ! Softly waken! "Tis a dream, For thou art home and not on distant shore Where error's waves thy cherished hopes dash o'er: Illusions they that now so potent seem— Illusions fading when Truth's morning beam Into thy heart doth resurrecting pour, As, when the earth a cloak of darkness wore, Did fade the darkness at the dawn's first gleam. Awaken, for sweet comfort waiteth thee, And Love the gloom of sense shall sweep away, Till in the light of Truth thy thought be free! Awaken to the beams of an eternal day: The dawning day of Spirit wake to see, And but the gentle voice of Love obey!