Questions & Answers
From architrave to royal dome, Love framed this beauteous Christian home. Here Truth shines forth with fadeless beam; Here peace and joy are all supreme; Here gentle dews from Love divine, Will heal that broken heart of thine; Will lift the sackcloth from thine eyes, And thou shalt see God's Paradise.
Like strains of music, soft and low, That break upon a troubled sleep, I hear the promise, old and new, "God will his faithful children keep In perfect peace. " It stills the questionings and doubts, The nameless fears that throng the soul; It speaks of love unchanging, sure, And evermore its echoes roll "In perfect peace.
To do Thy will is more than praise, As words are less than deeds; And simple trust can find thy ways We miss with chart of creeds. Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, what may thy service be? Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, But simply following thee.
O heart of mine, keep patience! — Looking forth, As from the Mount of Vision, I behold, Pure, just, and free, the Church of Christ on earth,— The martyr's dream, the golden age foretold! And, found at last, the mystic Grail I see, Brimmed with His blessing, pass from lip to lip In sacred pledge of human fellowship; And over all the songs of angels hear,— Songs of the love that casteth out all fear, — Songs of the Gospel of Humanity. Whittier.
In the third Book of Clement of Alexandria is given the following, said to be the earliest known hymn of the primitive Christian Church. Shepherd of tender youth, Guiding in love and truth, Through devious ways; Christ, our triumphant King, Join we Thy name to sing, And our dear children bring, Shouting Thy praise! Most high and holy Lord, Glorious, revealing Word, Healer of strife! Thou didst Thyself abase, That from sin's deep disgrace Thou mighest save our race, Giving us life.
" As a little child" — I say the words, And they seem to give me rest; As a little child would I become, And lie on the Mother's breast, — For God is the Infinite Mother Who hath borne and carried us all, Who broods above With a tender love Aware of our faintest call. But I asleep to that brooding love, Have been content in the dream; Or, fretted myself by day, by night.
Love , indeed, is light from heaven; A spark from that immortal fire, With angels shared, by Allah given, To lift from earth our low desire. Devotion wafts the mind above, But heaven itself descends in love; A feeling from the Godhead caught, To wean from self each sordid thought; A ray from him who framed the whole; A glory circling round the soul.
Look not above, As up to sun or star, To find your heaven, For Heaven is here,— Is God, and God is near, Not far, and He is All. Thou canst not go to Him As unto earthly king, For God is Spirit, mind, And must be sought In highest, purest thought— The true above.
" God is not moved by breath of praise," Honest must be our call. Test Thou our life in all its ways,— Thou comprehendest all.
WHO walks the flower-bordered paths of Love With soul attuned to nature's song, learns that The hand of Love is but the Hand of God. O Mother Heart, thy love has found the Way, The Truth, the Life; has banished Sickness, Sin, And Death; upon thy gentle bosom, Fear Is soothed away, and Sorrow comforted; Thy healing hand is stretched o'er all the world In loving benediction;—of a truth That hand of Love must be the Hand of God.