Questions & Answers
Peace now be to thee! Far mightier walls than those of builders' clay Encompass thee, Though unperceived by blinded eyes, And keep thee safe. No mournful yesterdays sigh 'round thy dwelling; No grief-begetting dawns stand weeping at thy gate.
Love found me idling, — "Wilt thou follow Me?" "Yea, Lord," I cried, "if Thou my guide wilt be, On and forever will I follow Thee. " Then straight across the valley swift we sped.
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace. — Isaiah.
Eternal Love, Almighty One, So gracious to forgive, We fix our thoughts on Thee alone, In Thee would ever live. O'ercome in us the mortal thought And make our hearts inclined To love the truth yet feebly sought And gain immortal Mind.
Master , from heav'n's open hymnal page, Pours Love's deep canticle — thy full-toned life; Above the desolate threnody And clam'ring call of strident centuries, This obligato of divinest power Is heard of men. The undulating fields Where thou hast looked and prayed would reapers come, No husbandman save thee, thy Father knew, could shield from rust and hail.
O fair white sisters of the field and fell, With your sweet-honey lips thus laid on mine, In world-forgetfulness I fain would tell Of Him, my Father-Mother God and thine, And breathe the while a word of praise and prayer divine Have you. as I, a consciousness of Him Who is the center and circumference Of earth and heaven? and is He clear or dim To your white lids of sainted innocence, Who is our Soul and source, creator and defence? Each flower a secret hath, beyond the ken Of earth's philosophers; the gifts of God Are multifold, and have their origin Beyond the cloistered darkness of the sod In Wisdom's secret cell by mortal feet untrod.
I know a garden, green and sweet, Where thrush and skylark sing; A garden far from mart and street. From dust and heat and clamoring.
Within a little world of sombre light I sit with self, whose unrelenting reign Since time unknown has swayed this small domain, Where brisk ambition elbows toward pride's height, Where darkling doubt and fear and envy blight, Where even death itself has dared to gain Outrageous entrance. Can I here remain, Fore'er content with naught but husks and night? I will arise and to the Father go, For He is Life—eternal life He gives; For He is Truth—the infinite, all-wise; For He is Love—His joy, love to bestow; On all His children.
Pierced with heart-famine to behold The storied prophet who of old Gave life again unto the dead, I went afar to find his way; To follow him, as even they Of self-bound hands and holden eyes Who, drawing nigh him in the press, Were healed of searing sin's duress. I crossed a fretted Galilee Of tidal fear—a self-pent sea; I searched the blue Judaean hills, The Temple's wreck and waste of stone.
The things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. —2 Corinthians, 5: 18.