Poems

Let not one day appear without its tender dawn, Nor night draw nigh but somewhere shines a star. What if long winter cover earth, The waiting heart shall know Its promised spring cannot remain afar.

Two sisters greeted once a well-loved guest. Each wished to honor him.

The golden thread of Truth, which we perceive In silent prayer, Illumes the holy purpose that it weaves And clothes us there. The morning meal which Love prepares we take In silent prayer.

The ages pass; proud empires fall—their names are writ in sand; But time takes nothing from our God, nor stays His mighty hand. His power knows no let nor loss, but with omnipotence Uplifts and heals and frees mankind from all the claims of sense.

Here in this sacred place commune with Love: withdraw from mortal sense; let earth weights fall, while healing truths come to your waiting thought with that rich peace the Christ extends to all. Gain here the sweet assurance that perceives man joyous, free, forevermore at one with good.

Come, worship God ''in spirit and in truth"! In humble prayer and pure desire partake Of Life and Love divine: for no uncouth Regime can hold the hearts that would forsake Their chains, outsoar their empty, useless shells. The idol melts, the splendrous pagan creeds Expire, but Truth's immortal law compels Us all to worship God with holy deeds.

Gently it came—the first soft glow of dawn— And then the fringe of dark was lifted. Within the stillness of that early hour My thought was stirred; I heard again the words the Master spoke: "He that hath seen me hath seen the Father.

I am my brother's keeper. When he knocks Upon my door what room do I provide For shelter—one with bars and locks, A dungeon where no sun and air abide? Or do I gladly wield a mental broom And furnish, for both comfort and delight, My best, my many-windowed upper room, And bid him welcome to it day or night? Am I my brother's keeper? Yes, I am.

More beautiful than songs of birds at dawn, Awakening us on some fair summer's day, Are the songs of angels, which, swiftly borne On Love's strong wings, instruct us in the way To truly live, the way to prove our love For God and for our fellow men. If we But listen, we shall hear these songs above All other sound and, happily, be free! This gentle way of Love's design may seem Miraculous at first when we are healed.

O god Thou art my Father: Thy glory is ever before me. I am compassed about with Thy songs of deliverance; My goings are blessed with Thy psalms of salvation.