Poems

May I be truly humble, Father. This above all my prayer, Nor let inordinate ambition rule, but rather May I achieve fulfillment where Only Thy precepts guide.

Accepting good is such a simple thing, And yet how long and stubbornly we cling To mortal thoughts and human reasoning. "But it has always been like that," we say, Forgetting that there is a better way As yet untried or toyed with timidly.

When busily engaged in speaking words of Truth And occupied with loving thoughts which heal and bless, I find a day completely filled with joyous deeds Unfolds continuously within my consciousness.

How long the pain, I do not know— before I felt the healing glow of warmth, a soft caress, the flow of balm into my wounds, and found bent o'er me one who gently bound my injuries and from the ground onto his own beast lifted me and took me to the inn to be tended and cared for properly. It does not matter, now, how long I'd lain.

" Go , wash"—the hearer felt the imperative intent, So that, without questioning, he straightway rose and went. Oh, whiter than break of day upon the mountain's height The light of perception, dawning, dispelled his lack of sight.

The prophet Moses heard the voice of God When safe among the fields at Midian, Content in easy domesticity Free from the plague of Pharaoh's jealousy. So was God's Word revealed to Abraham In human years of ripe security, The lance of Spirit severing his desires From narrow sensuous ease to broader purposes.

I did not come to Him with needs all met. With deeds unselfed, or happy, childlike trust.

If all the love that ever mothers knew In every country from the start of time. And every tenderness of friend to friend In every continent and every age, And all the good man ever showed to man, Noted or unobserved—if all that love Were heaped in one immeasurable thought Beyond the reach of mortals, yet that love, With all its warmth, its gentleness and power, Would be a grain of mustard to the Love That rules the stars and makes the lily fair, Reigns through all space and fills the humble heart, One boundless source of all that cumulate good.

Not in the earthquake or the flame, The wracking wind, or violence, came The voice of Truth—omnipotence. But in the stillness and the calm, Omniscient quietude—the balm Of Love's supernal evidence.

Only five loaves you say? And only two fishes? Poor blinded eye! Whence came the five and two? Numerals of mortal mind— No substance there. Now look beyond the numerals.