Poems

We thank You, Father, for the joy Of knowing You are here; For understanding of the truth That conquers pain and fear; For consciousness of radiant Life That is Yourself alone, And knowledge of enfolding Love That ever guards its own. For all these gifts our thanks we bring; There is no more to ask, Except that we remember them In every daily task; That we may ever bear in mind Their amplitude and power, And let the thought of Love divine Fill every golden hour.

May I be swift to hear Thy angel message, Which comes in stillness to the listening ear; The inspiration of Thy love and goodness That quiets fear and pain, oh, let me hear. Let me be slow to speak and patient ever To wait on wisdom, to withhold the dart That may, perchance, offend an erring brother, Where loving-kindness proves the better part.

Here in Thy presence. Father, is my home.

Life is the only substance of this hour; Then give no way To shade of doubt or death— Life calls today! Each moment is by Life possessed; Then see The amplitude of Life expressed Eternally. Life is the only substance of this hour; Wherefore, know The all-pervasiveness of Life, its ebbless flow; And find no shallow in Life's surging power— The Life invincible, that is The only substance of this hour!

The plane of true existence Is Spirit, Truth, and Love. Within the sphere of Science We safely live and move.

Although unchanging Truth be misconstrued, No mortal fear or failure may reverse All-loving Mind, which can impose no curse, Whose purpose is undeviating good, Whose will, with power invincible imbued, Maintains the rhythm of the universe, Whose happy law it is that we rehearse With reverence and prayerful gratitude. And though, as if asleep, we should forget, His holy Word remains forever true, His ample blessing rests upon us yet To comfort and deliver and renew.

At times when days seem burdened and oppressed, Love's angel visitants throng in to me, To calm the winds of conflict and unrest And still the waves on life's tumultuous sea. "The battle is not yours but God's.

" Father , forgive them," was the Master's prayer When buffeted, misunderstood, reviled. His love could brook no recompense in kind, But rather was his thought so reconciled To good that he could rise above the lack Of love that sprang from groundless prejudice, And with compassion meet the base attack Of those too blind to see God's handiwork.

True peace is not a thing to buy or win: It is already present as a fact In spite of raging war, disease, and sin, In spite of storm, earthquake, and cataract. The Principle of order has not failed To manifest its peace since time began; "In the beginning" means that peace is hailed As basis for creation's perfect plan.

" Tarry ," he said, "at Jerusalem, Until ye be endued With power from on high. " Tarry there? Where pride of power' And power of priestly pride, Aided by Roman soldiery, held sway? Where tyranny of Pharisee Vaunted itself above omnipotence? "Do not depart," he said, "But wait the Father's promise.