Poems

Yes. It's true I wrote I was in the island of Patmos, Since that is where they exiled me; But more truly I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day— Timeless day of unfolding reality; Of enfolding Love, More real than stubborn barrenness of Patmos; Of upholding Truth, More concrete far than adamant of heart That banished me to Patmos.

More blessed he than flesh-oriented Thomas, who, leaning not on the senses' reassurance and fingered proof, believes. Geoffrey J.

Pray deep, pray deep For all who sleep, Dreaming the dream Of evil days that seem— Yet never are! Prayer deep as Truth can wake Each dreamer, break His dark fantasy of woe. And lo, Open his eyes to the sun.

To see another's imperfection Means our thinking stands correction; For we're not seeing the spotless image, But the counterfeit of God's reflection. Esther M.

To love the Lord my God With all my heart and All my soul and All my mind; all this—first great command— I'll do alone, myself, here, now, Beneath the starry vault of heaven, in my chair, beneath Some spreading leafy thing Walk softly in my thoughts and sing A hymn of praise and gratitude to God, the King. This is my own church; This is where it must begin.

In the secret place She saw the Son, The beloved, the only begotten one. "Follow me," She read again, "And I will make you fishers of men.

Are you listening, contemporary Jonah? There's that Voice again . Go warn the people, the people of Nineveh! Share what you have! Communicate! Turn them on with Truth! Yes, there's a ship at Joppa ready to sail to Tarshish, far away, safe Tarshish.

Far off beyond the windows of my grief I saw the garden. Children were there, barefoot, absorbed in games of French cricket.

A lecture heals when the cup of joy in your heart spills over into the community splashing heads of strangers neighbors loved ones with drops of comfort streams of Truth rivers of Life. Joy Dell.

How long the years— slow passing weeks—days—hours since first in frightened haste I broke away, fled Pharaoh's palace, in sympathy with mine own captive brethren. Yet I dared to hope: Surely for a great purpose was I saved from birth! But on and on the silent years marched by nor any sign.