Poems

" Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church. " Master, did you call me a rock? I, who have had to search And pray for strength to still the wavering within my heart, As when I walked upon the waves, then felt my faith depart; Or when, denying you, I heard the cock begin to crow, And wept the tears of deep remorse, of bitter shame and woe.

When , striving with a lie of mortal sense. We glimpse in dawn of Truth the lie's surcease And rise in triumph, cutting falsehood's band— This—this is peace.

Wherever there are walls for us to build, Let us, like Nehemiah. learn the way.

While yet I tabernacle here with men, Oh, let me know the precious Christly touch Of him who walked in Galilee. If then I chance to see love needed very much, I shall have sources inexhaustible Of healing joy and power from which to draw.

O harried mortal, look to Love and find The secret place where, earthly clamor stilled, True peace abides. No arrogance can jar, Nor sensuous thought disturb, what God has willed.

I sat with folded hands and prayed to know Some duty to perform, some task to do. The answer came in accents sweet and low: "The fields are white, the harvesters are few; Arise, go forth, and heal the sick, the blind.

Along deserted streets, narrow and dim, A man named Nicodemus came—by night. With questions in his heart that troubled him, He sought the one who said, "I am the light.

Here I am in my corner, he said. The world Has passed me by—and I, with pleasure, the world.

It came like touch of angels' wings— the love expressed to me— like sun's rays kissing folded bud to set its petals free. It lighted shadowed earthly paths as dawn turns night to day.

The dream is ending, and the sophistry Of sin is now a sinking galleon crushed Against Truth's towering cliffs of purity. Death's wild lament of sadness shall be hushed Tonight, for Christ is calling home the lost And lonely ones.