Questions & Answers
Suffer them to come, the Master said, The kingdom is of such; and laid his hand With lingering tenderness upon the head Of one, the nearest of the little band. Wide-eyed, they clustered there about his knees, Held by the love that trembled in that voice Whose accents vanquished sin, unloosed disease, And called a world to hearken and rejoice.
A mote of vagrant pollen went, breeze-borne, With fertile gospel unto barren corn; One teeming talent, missed by vine and leaf, Bore magical enrichment to a sheaf; Yet no man saw the miracle that morn. A wee brown-breasted singer, during rain, Released one wild wood-lyric, and again The miracle of speech, to one long mute.
Art thou a seeker for harmonious day? Pale pearls the twilight in the quiet skies, The clouds dissolve, and plainer grows the way, As Love's clear vision meets the longing eyes. Hast thou to meet the chastisement of scorn, Which seeks to injure through material sense? Arise betimes, as one who, heaven-born, Wieldeth the weapons of omnipotence.
" I am the light,"—so spake in days of old The God-crowned Jesus, meek as he was bold. He spoke the word, and lo! the light of Love Descended softly, like the nestling dove: The light of ever-present Truth and good Brought joy to mourners, to the hungry food.
Comes a tide of joy, Surging, surging, Till it fills my life, Urging, urging; Now the voice of God, Clearer, clearer, Calls the wayward heart Nearer, nearer; And with song I answer, Serving, serving, Thou my all shalt be, In faith unswerving. Elizabeth Mallory.
O what a woe is this! that I, A child of Him who reigns on high, Should dwell in this mortality! Why do I deem that foul is fair, That dark is light, and hope despair? And who is Truth's interpreter? O well-a-day! and woe is me! How may I gain the golden key To loose my fetters and be free? For life is false, and love is cold, And truth itself is bought and sold, And earth is mildewed, worn, and old.
What is thy hope, as laboring day by day In office high or 'mid the loathsome mire, Or sunk in idleness: dost thou aspire To aims above this mortal world of clay? Knowest thou at length, awearied, thou shalt say: "I yearn, alas, for something nobler, higher, Yet know it not!" And wouldst thou then inquire For that strange something, aye, and seek the way? Above earth's falsities thy steps must go, Thine eyes on Truth be fixed to conquer fear; And Love' shall guide thee, for thy heart shall know His tender presence, comfort ever near, Till o'er the earth-hung mist the light doth show Mind's pure creation to thy vision clear.
In silence mighty things are wrought— Silently builded, thought on thought, Truth's temple greets the sky; And, like a citadel with towers, The soul, with her subservient powers, Is strengthen'd silently. Soundless as chariots on the snow, The saplings of the forest grow To trees of mighty girth; Each nightly star in silence burns, And every day in silence turns The axle of the earth.
" Talitha cumi!" If of thee 'tis said, As of that daughter of Jairus' heart, Thou art beyond the help of human aid, God's healing truth can bid the dream depart. "Talitha cumi!" Though they laugh to scorn The spoken declaration made for thee, Still, like the eastern maid to life reborn, At this decree thine opened eyes shall see.
Oh , I am so glad, said the little rose, To grow! So glad of the dew and the soft fresh winds That blow! So glad I can lift my petals pink From the clod; Praise God! cried the rose, in her own sweet way, Praise God! Oh, I am so glad, cried the little brook, To flow! To wend my way from the mount to the vale Below; To ripple cool by the rocks and the fair Green sod. Praise God! cried the brook, as it sang to the sea, Praise God! Oh, I am so glad, said a son of man, For life! For the power to be and do in a noble Strife: To joyously act, and neither shirk Nor plod.