Questions & Answers
They stood in the open doorway, Ere day was scarce begun,— A winsome, happy young mother And bonny little son. Her eyes in their love-lit beauty Resting with love untold On his sweet red lips, kiss-pouted, And hair of tawny gold.
From the scenes of sense so fleeting, From the tempest, wildly beating, Lashing all the mighty ocean Into billowy commotion; Turn we, and with hearts of gladness, Try to cheer earth's grief and sadness. Fitting emblem seem the waters Of earth's weary sons and daughters, Who see our Father's loving-kindness Slowly breaking through their blindness, Lift their doubting eyes to Heaven, Whence the blessed light is given.
And try Me now in this, Saith Jehovah of Hosts,— Whether I will not open to you the Windows of Heaven, And pour out upon you a blessing. Malachi.
God's Spirit falls on me as dewdrops on a rose, If I, but like a rose, my heart to Him unclose. The soul wherein God dwells,—what church can holier be?— Becomes a walking tent of heavenly Majesty.
Fair are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is fairer; Rare is the rose-burst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is rarer; Sweet the exultance of song, but the strain that precedes it is sweeter; And never was poem yet writ, but the meaning outmastered the metre. Never a daisy that grows, but a mystery guideth the growing; Never a river that flows, but a majesty sceptres the flowing; Never a Shakespeare that soared, but a stronger than he did enfold him; Nor ever a prophet foretells, but a mightier seer hath foretold him.
There were seven Ushers, with nets in their hands, And they walked and talked by the seaside sands; Yet, sweet as the sweet dew-fall, The words they spake, though they spake so low, Across the long dim centuries flow, And we know them, one and all,— Ay! we know and love them all. The livelong night, till the moon went out In the drowning waters, they beat about,— Beat slow, through the fog, their way; And the sails drooped down with wringing wet, And no man drew but an empty net; And now 't was the break of the day,— The great, glad break of the day.
Golden foretaste, Ripening weather! Fruits and sunshine Come together.
I shall awake! however dread The shadows of the coming night; Uprising from my dreamless bed, I shall again behold the light! I shall awake! not of the earth, Whose ways with erring feet I 've trod; But fashioned by a glorious birth Into the image of my God! I shall awake! no more to crave With constant longing, still denied; The good I covet I shall have; With Christ I shall be satisfied.
True love in this differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away. Love Is like understanding, that grows bright, Gazing on many truths.
" How shall I a habit break?" As you did that habit make. As you gathered you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse.