Poems

Evil will try to gain its fullest measure Of false dominion in the world of men, Promising to the eye, the ear, its pleasure, Making assaults again and yet again. Yet men need never fear base evil's legions When armed by Truth and Love, which conquer all; Guarded by angels, safe in loftier regions, Man's higher selfhood, stainless, cannot fall.

In Mind there is no deafened faculty. But sometimes we build soundproof walls within The heart—the stigma of heredity, The scar of accident, the stain of sin.

O sacred sanctuary In which we dwell, No exodus nor end Can mark thy terminal. Boundless the realm Wherein the angels sing Their heavenly symphony.

Dear Father, mold my life to Thine; With Christlike purity endow This heart. In humble penitence I pray to know at-one-ment now.

When the living Christ shall dawn in thought With all the brilliance of a risen day Upon the sky line of expectancy, Then shall we find the image that we sought, The likeness of his universal worth, The vision of his normal loveliness Unclouded by the dark and dreaming earth; And we shall find this beauty in ourselves. We shall be part of Love's eternity Each one, a witness to the timeless hour, Unblemished like the nimbus of a flower That cannot fade.

As migrant bird unerringly Wings through uncharted sky, Nor falters once, its distant goal Revealed instinctively, So we can trust the power that guides The bird, sure-winged, on high, To chart our course and light our path, Not asking how or why. Our Father knows.

The power that healed the hand of Moses And turned the water into wine, That gave new feet to crippled beggars— Such power can only be divine. The power that saved the Hebrew captives, And Daniel in the lions' den, That led all Israel out of bondage, Today can heal the woes of men.

" Study to shew thyself approved. " Dear Father, let me learn The gentle ministry of Life And Love.

Grace is expressed in every lifting wing, In arching step of fawn through brookside ferns, In curve of ocean wave with upward fling, And in the lilt of words a poet turns. But grace of thought is much more beautiful And meaningful than simple rhythmic sway; It shines out in the spirit's miracle— A heart that sings upon a cloudy day.

This dark and barren place is Bethel, where Jacob came at sunset and placed himself a pillow of stone. Here each must face alone his troubled thinking, sin, and sad regret; at Bethel men must conquer false belief, and each will weep over his erring footsteps; repentance at Bethel is deep.