Questions & Answers
From death's illusion we shall wake to know There is no death: 'tis but the changing show Of sin's necessity, the ebb or flow Of falsehood's ocean, ever surging, sighing Unto the pitying stars, and vainly trying To wed earth's falsity to Truth undying. Vain is the effort, and the issue vain, There is but discord in the dark refrain, Tis but a phantom of the frenzied brain.
Come Thou at dawn! With the first streaks of light That creep unbidden to our waking sense, We rise to greet thee with a joy intense— Thou art our might! Come Thou at noon! If on life's battlefield We fail to see Thee in the smoke and stress, Checking the ardor of our worldliness— Thou art our shield! Come Thou at eve! When, as the sun declines, In deep'ning twilight shade we lose the day, We know 'tis we ourselves have turned away— The light still shines! Come Thou at night! Should sickness seem to hide For one brief hour Thy never-failing grace, Or sin disguise the brightness of Thy face, Thou still dost bide!
The beauteous morn dawned flamed in pink O'ershot with lustrous clouds of gold, And trembling there the promise fair Of all the gladsome hours should hold. The full noon came to perfect prime And waned pomegranate-red away.
There came to me a vision of the world Governed by good, illumined by the light Of harmony and by the radiance of Truth! There through melodious space the sons of God Circled in beauty, and in bliss From star to star—from golden land to land. There blossomed lilies—blossoms deathless and divine! There all was energy, yet all was peace! Lo, man reflected Love, and realized Creation as the pure idea of Mind.
Robin , perched on the budding bough, Swings and sings thro' the April day. The winds shriek loud, and the clouds hang low,— But what cares he for their surly way? The sun may hide, and the day grow dim, And the noisy drops may fall amain; Little he recks their eager vim, Caroling all thro' the springtime rain.
" Glory to God!" My heart, arise and sing "Glory to God," the heaven's eternal king. See how the morn awakes, and points for me A gleaming path across the glimmering sea, Out from the desert past, the dust-blown sod, To lead my life to God, my hope to God.
Beneath a sullen, somber sky, Gloomy and gray the waters lie— Leaden and dull and listless, save The heavy toss of wave on wave. But look! for now the clouds divide— O'erhead warm skies, below the tide— Erstwhile so languid, dull of hue: One flashing, sparkling sheen of blue! Not mine to ask from whence or why Those earth-born clouds, nor whither fly; But mine alone the joy to know That neither height nor depth below Nor any creature can obscure God's light, which shines unchanged and pure.
But he held his peace, and answered nothing. — Mark, 14:61.
Before I was, Thou knewest me; Safe wilt Thou keep what is of Thee, How could I stand without Thy aid? How should I walk if Thou forbade? Or speak? My thoughts are in Thy hand, No help, unless Thou understand! Thee have I sought. At Thy blest hour Answer me, shield me with Thy power.
Soft , rosy, sweet, on nature's wings there steals the dawn; Each songbird waking, almost whispering sings, See, comes the morn! A soft breeze o'er earth's fields with reverence blows, Fearful lest aught too rough should bid each flower unclose. In wondrous mystery of color-dreams the dawn-light grows, And almost breathless nature seems in golden hues; Till with one shout of life earth's grateful throng Welcomes with pulsing joy the risen sun! 'Tis past, and twilight comes with saddening ray.