Poems

One dry leaf, how it clings! Curling in upon itself— beckoning— but I will turn away. One cannot grasp at memories and still be free to cup the promise of a bud.

Have we sensed the challenges he faced—brave Enoch, when the world, youthy and green, had scent of valleys, saw the distant hills transmuted into gold-leaf splendor, tracing the rich variety of life? Enoch viewed exciting glints of it. We do not know how much he shunned the clamor of a vain and sensuous world.

Through prayer he frees himself from hidden jungle snares that would destroy. Through prayer he shelters those who choose to walk with him his proven path.

The precious sons of Zion, citizens of the city of God comparable to fine gold to the highest standard of value— who dares to rate them as earthen pitchers products of an inferior hand? Have we not all so transgressed? Have we not all miscalled ourselves and others, pointing out the traces of clay that only we can pretend to see? Could God who with loving care forms each individual son in the image of His own perfection find any flaw? Does He see brittle, fragile clay which may be disfigured and destroyed? How could He? Spirit, Mind, Truth, Life, and Love can see only these reflected in all His precious sons! Margaret Tsuda.

I looked at my brother's field and I saw tares and I saw wheat but I wept over the tares and forgot to joy over the wheat and then I thought "I will try to rid him of his tares. Yes, I will pull out these ugly weeds.

She remained, it is true, unappointed to any conspicuous post; unmentioned, even, in the larger congregation to which she belonged. She spoke no languages except her own, and—in those almost nine decades—traveled only briefly, and then not far, from a place that time and again has known shell, bomb, and the violence of armies surging through.

And then there was that servant of the high priest who was—remember?— struck at, impetuously, by one of us. One of those, that is, on the right side.

What is the town from which you came? It has no name . What was the background, in and out? Despair and doubt.

It is not said that mourning shall be turned into non-mourning: a cessation of suffering, a merciful blank like the aftermath of a crisis passed. Nor is there promised the prolonged privileges of a convalescent who earns—by the mere feat of survival—the flowers, the fruit, the ministrations of others.

I John 4:20 If I have not expressed true tenderness To him I know on earth; If there is one I feel not worth A moment's thought or second glance; If, for brief glory dearly bought, I shatter the confidence of a trusting heart, And treasure the false gold Of scornful thought; How can I claim to understand That Love divine, whose Word Insists I love another as myself? Dear Father, give to me that grace (Although I may not always merit it) Which melts the rocklike vein of thought And shapes it to Your likeness, That I may constantly show forth The gentle radiance of Your love, In words that heal and bless; In deeds that are not just so many words. Stanley John York.