The house in Lynn
Was filled with healing peace,
That summer morning, as we slowly climbed
The narrow flight of stairs
And reached the room
Beneath the skylight where the rocker stood.
Never was a room, so humbly furnished, Filled
With quieter holiness. A table held
A leather–covered Bible tooled by hand.
One almost heard the Apocalypse angel ask,
"Who is worthy to open the book,
And to loose the seals thereof?"
One had been found to loose them . . .
Only one.
As though the years rolled swiftly back,
We saw
Scattered about the rocker on the floor
Page on inspired page of penciled script.
Day after day the messages had come
From angel visitants.
Day after day,
At dusk, the pages had been gathered up,
Prayerfully sorted, reverently laid aside.
Standing upon the threshold of this room,
We felt the sackcloth lifted from our eyes.
Here had been housed a guest of God.
Here, too,
The seed of Christian Science had been born,
To grow into the tree of life, whose leaves
Were for all nations' healing.
We had watched
The flowering, shared the fruitage . . . now,
Seeing the vineyard where the seedling grew,
We heard within our hearts
A new birth stir
Before the Truth, the Christ, the Comforter.
