Questions & Answers
My heart looks out toward Judah's hill, But duty bids me "Peace, be still!" While throngs pass by, And songs of jubilee ascend, And faith, and hope, and beauty blend To make the day of sweet accord, In which we greet our coming Lord— Amen. Sense whispers to my waiting heart, "You'll miss the sweet, the better part, By absence from the feast;" But Love, omnipotent, supreme, Dispels the shadow of my dream, Reveals Communion ever here, Dependent not on place nor year, What then? Small matter where my body is, If I but love and worship His Eternal will, And, loving thus, some duty do To prove my love and motive true, Whilst sweet Communion whispers, still, No time, no space, no self, no will, But His.
Not in dumb resignation We lift our hands on high; Not like the nerveless fatalist Content to trust and die. Our faith springs like the eagle Who soars to meet the sun, And cries exulting unto Thee O Lord, Thy will be done! Thy will! It bids the weak be strong, It bids the strong be just; No lip to fawn, no hand to beg, No brow to seek to dust.
To-day my heart was strangely stirred, I caught a deeper thought that gave New meaning to the written Word, New love to him who came to save. "One thing thou lackest!" how it thrilled My wakened conscience, e'en to pain, My heart with questionings was filled, Of heavenly loss, of earthly gain.
No mortal sense can hinder The flight of secret prayer, That ceaseless, voiceless heart-desire Which seeks God everywhere. The spoken sign, or symbol, Time-hallowed form or phrase, May open heaven's portal For him who humbly prays.
I've watched in the azure the eagle's proud wing, His soaring majestic, and feathersome fling— Careening in liberty higher, and higher— Like genius unfolding a quenchless desire. Would a tear dim his eye, or pinions lose power To gaze on the lark in her emerald bower? When higher he soareth to compass his rest— What vision so bright as the dream in his breast! God's eye is upon him; He penciled his path, Whose omniscient notice the frail fledgling hath; Though lightnings were lurid, and earthquakes should shock, He rides on the whirlwind or rests on the rock.
From mystic latitudes Of earth and sky, at such an hour as this, The breath of Love is blown across our thought. In the silence and serenity of night, Voices that in the din of day are mute Bring to us messages of peace and joy, In softer syllables than sweetest song.
I roamed abroad, beneath the gathering light Of springtide moon and stars, whose wondrous show Of beauty o'er the firmament of night, Filled my rapt heart to tearful overflow. The zephyr voices breathed a flowing song Of praise more sweet than ever art of man Could frame in word or music, and along The tender sky, an unsubstantial span Of cloud, as faint as foam that flecks the sea, Lay, like heaven's smile, above earth's shadowed face; And all things, filled with holy ecstasy, Seemed to give thanks for this most perfect grace, I too gave thanks, that thus 'twas given to me This onward sign of heavenly Love to see.
Draw freely from the store of Love each day And with no thought of saving, cast away Thy love-deeds, lavishly, without a care; The more thou giv'st of love, the more thy share Enlargeth. And thou need'st not wonder where Or when to give; give always, here and there.
When from night's loom the shadows deep unroll, Make thou accounting; question thus the soul: "Hast thou lent aught of thy God-trusted wealth, To bring thy fellow unto peace or health? Hast laid a balm to heal some sore hurt heart, Withdrawn, despairing, from the press apart? Hast shot a smile athwart misfortune's frown; Or lifted up the brother, Wrong cast down?" If none of these be done, thy deeds were naught; It boots not with what toil thy day was fraught. W.
Is the Spirit good seed sowing? Let it grow. Do not fret about its growing, God doth know.