Poems

Christ Jesus rose from the tomb. This is no empty story, remote and far away.

Christ rolled away the stone. And nothing now can bar us from the light.

Remember how they boarded ship that day, The Master and the twelve, and as they sailed, He fell asleep—and how great winds arose And raging waves from every side prevailed? They cried out in their fear till he awoke And calmed the tempest. "Peace, be still," he said, Affirming Mind's omnipotent control, Through which the sick were healed, the thousands fed.

They told me patience was still resignation, An underbearing of inevitable woe. They said that patience had a suffering designation.

No more a servant! Prove illusive fetters But webs of mortal weaving. Break their gauze By seeking man's true self in mounting splendor, Conceived by God and governed by His laws.

We hear of pain and trouble, want and fear. The dual paths before us now are clear: The avenues which make reality of what we hear We must refuse, And then the glorious way will soon appear to higher views.

Pleasanter perhaps for Elijah If only Cherith had not failed him. Pleasanter to have rested there Drinking the clear brook water, fed by the ravens, Alone with God in the quiet— Pleasanter than submit himself to the rigor Of that poor widow's home in Zarephath.

When grief gets in the eye, the vision shrinks. The universe contracts to one who thinks Only of sorrow.

We make such mountains of the little things, Such molehills of the truly great. To vexing cares thought often firmly clings, While Life's eternal values wait! If we neglect the qualities of Soul, Our burdens mount, our cares increase.

After the cross—resurrection. Then, the doors being shut, he came; "Peace be unto you," he said.