Poems

" Thy will be done," we gladly pray, And there the yearning heart can rest, Knowing that He in whom we trust Will give us all we need today. "Thy will be done.

Then Balak, King of Moab, filled with fear, Sent messengers to Balaam, asking aid And begging him to use his mighty power To help destroy the Israelites. The seer Must well have known that man whom God hath made Is always safe and never needs to cower In doubt and fear.

The night how dark! Helpless the little ship To battle winds that pounded like a flail. Against the tide, the toiling oars, how frail As sense of storm intensified its grip! Impotent human courage to prevail, To stanch their fear, till the disciples saw And knew the truth, then watched with joyous awe As Jesus walked the water, stilled the gale.

Give thanks for open thought: for open hands Outstretched to feed the hungry, sow the seed; For open hearts, attuned to hear the call And speak the word that points the open way; For open eyes, which penetrate the veil And see with vision clear the perfect man; For open doors, which bid us pause and read The open books that all may understand; For open meetings, where, with lips unsealed, We tell our friends how Truth has made us free; But most, give thanks for Love, the open fount, Unfailing source of every open thought.

Exiles in Babylon, They wept beside the rivers And hung their harps on the willow trees. Their captors required of them a song, Even a song of Zion.

There came a man who questioned long And asked and asked again: "How shall I know if I be strong? And who shall tell me when There is still need to seek afar, Or if I rightly heard?" The angel came, clear as a star, With power of the Word: "Know you now what man you are? The witness of the Lord!".

When Mary, with the infant one, Saw shepherds come by angels led, And Wisemen too in caravan Kneel at his feet, their gifts outspread, She marveled not, for she had known The angel promise to His own. And as the young child's growth increased In favor with both God and man, She kept these things within her heart And pondered on his Father's plan, Waiting in humble quietude To see the Christly magnitude.

God's way is in the sanctuary—the sanctuary of spiritual knowing. It is a safe and secret way, unknown to the fearful or proud, But to the trusting and humble heart it is happy and innocent going, For the angels of God go with you along this road.

Flocks and herds and shepherds, And a star! Wisemen from out the East Who traveled far to see, to worship, him. He who would replace All earthly sovereignty, high pomp and policy, With grace and truth, Lay cradled in the warmth of mother love— Pure, tender love, Midst flocks and herds and shepherds.

What have we here wherewith to medicine The endless frictions of contracting days? What magic will release thought prisoned in The deadly routines of our mortal ways? Is there no alchemy that may transmute A leaden selfishness to love's pure gold? No argument by which we may refute The accusations conscienceless and cold? A star has risen whose clear light will bathe In lambent fire the stones beneath our feet, Whose life, rich-burgeoning, in joy will wreathe With laurel all our symbols of defeat. Through Christly service is true freedom found; In love of God shall love for man abound.