Poems

Are we not serving when we wait on God? And doing this, may we not prove That in this very serving we are loving Him? And each may have the joy of doing this, Perhaps expressed in quietness—a silence filled with peace— Or oftentimes through spoken words With gentleness put forth. Whatever seems to be the need, Love ever waits to bless Each one who firmly stands Unmoved, in trusting faithfulness.

A blackbird from an elm, the topmost part, Was lifting up to God his inmost heart In gratitude. Unbounded joy arose, too, like a flood Within my heart; more singing rose and grew, And then I knew: "This is my Father's business," this for all The only work there is—truly to be, To glorify His nature, and His praise Show forth; in Him be glad, rejoice always In Truth.

Each day that comes to me is a new day, God's day, in which He will disclose to me another way, more opportunity to manifest His graciousness in word and deed. He will unfold His plan for me yet more in this new day in which old things have passed away, all things are new—new thoughts, new words, new deeds.

Here in the battle's din I hear God's Word; No other sound is heard. The strife is stilled, And I am filled With consciousness of immortality.

Once shone a star in Bethlehem's dark night, When angels sang of glory in each ray. While Wisemen from the East beheld the light, And shepherds knelt in humble joy to pray.

Above the tumult of the earth, Though peace may seem afar, Can still be heard the heavenly song And still be seen the star! Oh, may we, as the Magi wise, Have hearing ears and seeing eyes.

Light the candle, stand it tall, And set no Christmas tree beside it; Let only this brave light be all— No tinsel string or frosted glass to hide it. O boy, upon far battlefield, This candle is to herald dawn, To signify for Truth another shield, And God forever with His son.

How can we thankful be for everything Which comes into the heart's experience — Life's disappointments, discords, griefs, which fling A pall around our joy and drive it hence? Can we be thankful when the world is sad, Wracked with the pain of sorrow, want and fear, Sin and destruction? Can the heart be glad When men are losing all that life holds dear? I ponder, and the answer comes with light: In everything give thanks—not for the sin, The blackness, and the terror of the night; But in the midst of evil's wrath and din We can stand firm, knowing its claims are nought. Truth, understood, dispels their seeming power; And in this wisdom, with salvation fraught.

Up , up on strong wing, O bird, Into the light. No fetters bind you to the earth, Nor stop your flight.

A host of error compassed them about, A host of fear, uncertainty, and doubt; And then they turned their thoughts unto the Lord, And humble faith in good was thus restored. With hymns of grateful praise their voices rang; The enemy was routed as they sang.