No one can chart my way save God.
Friends' love may comfort hold.
But grown sheep, I, beneath His rod,
Must pass within His fold.
How kind the friend who held my hand
While, seeking Mind's clear day,
I journeyed on to Soul's bright land
By meekness of Love's way.
In my true self I found God's fold;
Lost brother too was there,
Cast, both of us, in Spirit's mold,
Held perfect in Truth's care.
Unselfed, we met like homing doves,
Enriched by Soul's embrace.
Each gave his gift of Christly love,
In others saw God's grace.
