Poems

In Love, in heavenly Love, we have our home; In Life's enclosing arm our comfort lies. In that dear care resting we no more roam.

Blest Christmas morn, though murky clouds Pursue thy way, Thy light was born where storm enshrouds Nor dawn nor day! Dear Christ, forever here and near, No cradle song, No natal hour and mother's tear, To thee belong. Thou God-idea, Life-encrowned, The Bethlehem babe— Beloved, replete, by flesh embound— Was but thy shade! Thou gentle beam of living Love, And deathless Life! Truth infinite,—so far above All mortal strife, Or cruel creed, or earth-born taint: Fill us today With all thou art—be thou our saint, Our stay, alway.

The God-inspired in every age have helped Mankind to rise above the mortal dream: When Nehemiah sought to build the wall, Defense was well assured to those within Jerusalem, the city blessed of God, Because "the people had a mind to work. " As Jesus turned from Satan's cunning bribes, So these refused to leave their high estate; For Nehemiah's foresight, and his love Of God and man, inspired them all to do Their work with gratitude and patient mind Until the wall was mended and complete.

For progress made, for fears allayed, We offer songs of praise; For love, and peace, and plenitude Throughout the Truth-filled days, For inspiration gained through prayer When mortal sense is still; Accept, O God, our thanks for this The harvest of Thy will.

In thinking rightly always good is gained: True thoughts are God-inspired, God-sustained. What is the pattern that we name perfection? Man's constant witnessing as God's reflection!

We are a thankful people, Lord, Who turn to You as children might, And know our deep desires are met Before we ask—and met aright. As Hagar turned, and found a spring Where there had seemed no fount before, Here, in this wilderness of days, We find refreshment more and more.

Lift up your head, 0 beloved, The fields are ripe with grain. Harvest comes to the faithful, Your labor is not in vain— Harvest of patient sowing, Fruitage of daily prayer, Courage through nights of darkness, Faith in His tender care.

O God , receive the tribute Which this Thy servant brings; He has not brought Thee riches From the treasure house of kings, But he has brought the firstfruits Of every labor wrought, The harvest to him rendered By each aspiring thought. He comes as Thou hast bidden.

The crowd had passed; the mocking, scornful crowd which had accused her and pronounced her doom. Trembling, bowed with the weight of condemnation, she found she stood alone with one they had called "Master," nor dared to raise her face until he spoke.

A light shines through the darkness And penetrates the chill. I turn to it from wandering The wilderness at will.