Questions & Answers
[Set to music by Irving I. Harwood, and for sale at Metaphysical College, at O.
About the globe, in never-ending round, Circles the Sun. Men talk of night and dark; He sees them not; wherever he comes 't is day.
Hast thou, from heights the Spirit hath attained, Beheld the world beneath thee, as a dream, Dissolve in nothingness,—the while its mean Desires, and meaner joys, no longer chained Thee to thyself, but, lost these limits, gained Thy universal Being? Hast thou seen All earth-forged barriers removed, till e'en God merged in thee, and thou in Him remained? Oh! weary, world-bound mind, which hath conceived God high above thee, throned, personified,— Thou shalt with sin and suffering be tried, Till of thy small beliefs thou art relieved, And faith through understanding hath perceived The Mind Immortal, real and unified.
Colored gold and red and amber, See the ripe leaves fall! Nourishing the vines that clamber O'er their brilliant pall. Not because the frost hath clutched them, Drop they to the earth; But that deeper life hath touched them, With a second birth.
Sway to and fro in the twilight gray,— This is the ferry for Shadowtown. It always sails at the end of day, Just as the darkness is closing down.
Lead , kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home,— Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet! I do not ask to see The distant scene,—one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on: I loved to choose and see my path; but now, Lead Thou me on! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
When from matter I would turn, Then Thy truths I can discern. The things I see, reduced to thought, Bring out their value, which is nought.
" Help one another," the snowflakes said, As they cuddled down in their fleecy bed. " One of us here would not be felt, One of us here would quickly melt; But I 'll help you and you 'll help me, And then what a big white drift we 'll see.
Now cometh Autumn, laden sweetly down With juice of hastening months and sunshine rare. Low bend the boughs, that man and beast may eat, And bird and insect, too,—enough for all.
From out the hideous night, Seeking Thy perfect light, Dear Lord, I come! Ambushed on every side, Dark error's foemen hide; Oh, lead me on. Armed with Thy Truth's sharp steel, No fear of foes I feel,— Strong in Thy might.