Questions & Answers
How darkly grew the clouds above When mortal mind held all my thought; Bitter the days of poor self love, Unheeding what the Master taught. Then came to me like gentlest dove The word of Truth Divinely fair; Vague seemings ceased, nor longer strove, I found in Mind, that God was there.
[In a published lecture on Christian Science it was said, "If a man finds his powers and ability diminished through sickness so that he is, we will say, only six-sevenths of a man, is it not legitimate to deny that error of limitation and to assert that the whole man, that is, the healthy man, should be manifested? We are called upon to deny all incorrect figures and every limitation of the powers and liberty of man. "] Take what's coming to you, brother, Take the blessing from His hand; Let your song, then, bless another, Let your love reach o'er the land.
Fairer by far than Eden's bowers, With its bright perennial spring, Is the universe of Spirit, Is the kingdom of our King. Not to mortal sense revealing The spiritual promise near, But where eyes, that seeing, see it, Eternal Beauty now is here.
In winter time he's happy "When he's pelted by the snows, In summer time he's singing If he gathers one sweet rose, And earth seems ever better For the happy way he goes. If dark the tempest's frowning, And no stars are in the night, He thanks God for a shelter, And sleeps and dreams of light, And somehow, earth is brighter For he ever makes it bright.
Blest Christmas morn, could murky clouds Pursue thy way Or light be born? no storm enshrouds Thy dawn or day! Dear Christ, forever here and near, No cradle song, Nor natal hour and mother's tear, To thee belong. Thou God-idea, Life-encrowned, The Bethlehem babe Beloved, adored, replete, renowned, Was but thy shade.
" What would you do," said the little key To the teak-wood box, "except for me?" The teak-wood box gave a gentle creak To the little key; but it did not speak. "I believe," said the key, "that I will hide In the crack, down there by the chimneyside, "Just so this proud old box may see How little it's worth except for me.
Brightest flowers are ever blooming In the garden of our Lord; Buds of Hope and beauty springing From the deepness of His Word. Barren thoughts grow strong and fruitful Where the Truth is sown in Love; And the dews of Heaven descending, Bring rich blessing from above.
In among the cool, green leaves, Sweet and low the violet sings Of the oft-returning springs. "Think you, friend, that when I go That I say a last good-bye,— That my fragrance lives to die ? "Only to thy erring sense Do I fade, for once again, Heralded by soft, warm rain, "I shall come, with message sweet.
Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred, And every nation, that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain! Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!" Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of war's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise. — Longfellow.
I cannot say and I will not say That he is dead—He's just away. With a cheery smile and a wave of his hand, He has wandered into an unknown land, And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there.