The air is heavy with the breath of prayer;
The still earth listens for the unspoken thought;
My heart beats wildly, and each throb is fraught
With joy and anguish for the longing there.
Ah, patient Christ, thine arms are open wide!
I press—I hasten, lest earth's seething tide
Should bear me backward, and with Love deposed
Fear meet me halting and—I find them closed.
God draweth nearer as the thought mounts higher,
And false sense cowers 'neath His stern command;
The sweet fulfilment of each pure desire
Lies in the hollow of His outstretched hand.
Closer, yet closer! Is the way so long?
The climb is cruel, but the summit sweet.
Earth's vain things lure (but Love is ever strong)—
God help me! Now they're crushed beneath my feet!
Great light! A thousand earth-ties snap like thread—
Heaven is at hand! the once-loved world lies dead.
Poems
[Written for the Journal.]
DEMONSTRATION
From the January 1909 issue of The Christian Science Journal
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